Iron Beta 2: All is Fair in Love and War
by IronSparrow99
Summary: Taylor Stark is back. She's older, wiser (just kidding!), and tougher. She's gained a family, a love life, and all kinds of experiences. But just how much will she lose?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hello, dear readers! Welcome to **_**Iron Beta: All is Fair in Love and war**_**, the second book in the Iron Beta series.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Currahee506, who wanted a scene later in the chapter to happen long ago.**

Chapter 1

"Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday dear Taylor,

Happy Birthday to you!"

I tilt my head and count to ten as I wait for the inevitable other shoe to drop.

"Happy Birthday to you

You live in a zoo.

You look like a monkey,

And you smell like one too!"

"Thanks, Dad." I laugh, "But you just called your Tower a zoo."

"I most certainly did not!"

"Oh, but you did! Second line, you said-"

"Both of you!" Natasha cuts in. "Can we not do this today please? If both of you don't shut up I will start throwing cake, don't think I won't."

"Sorry Natashalie."

"Sorry Tasha."

"It's alright. Now Taylor, come blow out your candles so I can eat the cake if I'm not gonna be throwing it at people."

I chuckle softly as I step towards the table and approach the cake.

The cake is a white frosted beauty with purple hand-piped decorations and frosting letters spelling out "Happy 18th, Taylor!" on top, surrounded by various nicknames such as _sparrow_ or _glowstick_ in fancy script.

I lean towards the eighteen candles and huff and puff as I blow out the candles, making a silent wish as I let my eyes take in my team/family gathered around the table.

Once I come back up, my dad cheers and runs out of the room towards the kitchen, screaming "Let them eat cake!" all the while.

"Shame on you, dad! Nobody ever said that!"

My dad sticks his tongue out at me as he comes back with the cake knife.

I roll my eyes at his childlike motion as he begins slicing the cake.

I gratefully accept my paper plate with a center slice, easy on the frosting – just how I like it – before going over to sit on one of the couches.

Natasha soon joins me, and we strike up small talk about daggers, guns, killing devices, and dangerous things in general.

You know, normal small talk between an eighteen-year-old and her surrogate aunt.

As Natasha tips her head back and laughs at a remark I made, I can feel someone's eyes on us, making me squirm. I glance quickly around the room to find the source of the gaze, and I do.

I eventually look over Natasha's shoulder to see my best friend, archery mentor, and crush of three years, Clint Barton, boring his eyes into Natasha's back. As he notices me watching him, he immediately looks down towards his cake, then shoves his plate away like it has burned him and almost runs out of the room.

I tilt my head and furrow my brow as I try and decipher what I just saw.

"Taylor?"

"What?" I snap, ninety-five percent of my brain fully focused on what I just witnessed and not happy at the interruption.

Then the other five percent kicks in and I turn to see Natasha staring at me, wide eyed at my sudden flare.

"Oh...sorry Natasha. Listen, I've got to go to...the bathroom! Yeah, the bathroom...I'll be right back!" I stutter as I run off, ignoring Natasha's calls and kicking myself for my horrible lying skills.

I stop in front of the bathroom door, but instead of going in like I had said, I look up towards my real plan.

The vent cover. I raise my left wrist and fire a net at it via glove, and leave it swinging on its hinges as I detach. I raise my right wrist, the prosthetic one, and fire into the dark vent space. I use a button on my wrist to pull myself in.

As soon as my boots hit metal, I scurry inside before pausing to think about where I was heading.

Clint running out had something to do with either me or Natasha. He bolted as soon as he saw me looking at him. He probably knew I saw him bolt and most likely knew I would come after him, which I was. He wouldn't be in any of the places he usually frequents, that would be too easy. So he's not in the rafters, vents, his room, or the archery range. He would be in a place he doesn't go to, a place nobody would expect. I ponders this for a moment, before jumping up so fast I slam my head on the top of the vent.

_His office! Why didn't I think of that sooner?_

When The Avengers split from S.H.I.E.L.D. three years ago, Clint and Natasha were left unemployed, so my dad hired them as connections (their job title reads _Private Specialized Team Contact_, but that's a mouthful), and they each got an office next to my dad's and mine.

I quickly make my way towards the nearest elevator, dropping out of the vents and stepping inside, pressing the button for business level four. I tap my foot as the elevator crawls upwards, huffing impatiently at the speed.

"Come on Jarvis, step on it, I might be dealing with an emotional crisis here!"

"Right away, ma'am."

The elevator shoots up and soon I step out onto the highest business floor. I pop back into the vents to avoid the bigwigs crawling around this floor and make my way towards the high ranking offices.

I pass over the CEO's office (my dad), the Vice President's office (mine), and Natasha's office before crossing the hall and peering through the vent cover.

Clint is hunched over his desk, his arms crossed and providing a pillow for his head. The purple hoodie I got him for his birthday, the one with the quiver design on the back and the arrow shaped zipper, has his head covered with the hood and the sleeve are pulled over his hands.

I gently ease open the vent cover and drop with a quiet _thump_ in a crouch in front of his desk.

"Clint?" I call softly, "Are you okay?" I come around his desk to lay a hand lightly on his shoulder, and he jumps at the touch.

"What? I-I um, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

I raise an eyebrow in what has been called my _really? Are you kidding me? _look.

He sighs, and rubs a hand over his face. "No. No, I'm not okay."

I pull up one of the cushy chairs around the room and sit. "Come, talk to sparrow." I invite in a horrible imitation of a European grandmother.

He chuckles slightly and begins. "I...I asked Natasha out on a date earlier."

I stiffen, not because I'm worried she said yes, but because I know that she said no. He's her friend and teammate, that's it.

Clint glances at me and sighs again upon seeing my expression. "You already know what she said, don't you?"

"I'm so sorry, Clint."

Clint sighs again and I move my chair around next to his so he can put his head on my shoulder. I gently run my fingers through his tousled hair as he continues.

"I don't even know why I'm taking this so hard. I mean, there are a lot more beautiful girls on this team, let alone in New York." I can feel the heat build in my cheeks and I am ever so thankful he can't see my blush. I'm the only female on the team besides Natasha, so...

"Have you ever dated anyone, sparrow?"

"Nah, never dated. Well, I did have a crush on this one guy all throughout middle school, but basically thought I was invisible, and then social media informed me he has a girlfriend, one of those beach blonde bimbos." Clint and I both wrinkle our noses at my last words. "I mean, I do have a crush on this one guy right now, but..." I trail off and shake my head sadly.

"Who is it? I'm sure he'd be lucky to have you. You're a genius, you're beautiful, you're courageous and strong, and you can kick major butt. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Clint picks his head up to look at me.

I blush deeply at his words and duck my head to hide my face. I can hear him chuckle softly and then I freeze as he falls suddenly silent.

"Taylor, hey, look at me for a second." He taps my chin up until I'm forced to look him in the eyes.

His beautiful blue-green-gray eyes sparkle as he continues. "You're so determined, you fight viciously for what you believe in, and you protect those you love with the fierceness of a tiger. Any guy would be lucky to treat you like the most precious gold on the planet."

With each word he leaned a little closer, and by the end of his little speech, our noses were millimeters away from each other. Each breath he takes hits my lips, and his eyes stare into my own. His next words were barely audible. "That guy was a moron."

Then he closes his eyes, swallows audibly, and does something I've dreamed of for three years.

He closes the millimeter-wide gap and smashes his lips against mine.

My normally mile-a-minute brain freezes. Fireworks erupt in my head and flash behind my eyes. I breathe in a scent of old wood, leather, and shampoo that is just so _Clint._

We eventually separate after a kiss that seems much too short, and we're both gasping and blushing. Clint brings one hand up to caress my cheek as we just stare into each other's eyes for another eternity.

Clint opens his mouth, and I wince and start coming up with excuses for what just happened.

"Taylor Maria Stark, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

_Wait, say what now?_

"What-I-I…I…yes!" I sputter and gape and blush.

Clint – _my boyfriend!_ – laughs and leans in for another kiss, but we both freeze and jump apart when we hear footsteps outside.

And just in time, too – because the door opens to reveal my dad, of all people.

I fight down my blush as my dad looks at me, then Clint, then me again and narrows his eyes. "Am I interrupting something?"

"What? Psh, no, 'course not." I scoff as I glance between my dad and Clint as Clint and I share a glance that says _nobody must know. At least, not him._

"Well, I was just coming to tell you we're opening presents upstairs. Coming, birthday girl?"

"Yeah, be right behind you."

My dad nods and shuts the door.

I, too, walk out and down the hall towards the elevator.

But not before grabbing Clint's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I wake up so fast my head smashes into the headboard on the way up.

As I blink the stars from my eyes and shake my head a few times, I realize that the shadows around me are those of my bedroom, I'm the only one in the room, and I can be a very active dreamer.

_It must've been something in the cake…_

I groan and fall back onto the pillow as I realize I am still single, and sigh as I fall still and try to let sleep overcome me once more.

Fifteen minutes pass.

Thirty minutes pass.

And then I realize that, thanks to my hyper brain, I'm not going back to sleep any time soon.

This is when I hate being a genius. This, and board meetings.

I sit up and glance at my alarm clock as I hunt for my slippers. It's six in the morning, I might not be the only one up.

I silently pad down the familiar path to the kitchen, to find that, no, I'm not the only one awake, but the house is still silent, bar for the coffee machine, and the lights are dim but not off.

I watch as Natasha pauses her movement at the stove as she hears me enter, and I trudge towards a stool by the bar as she silently begins to ready a second cup of coffee.

"You will never believe the dream I just had." I begin as I accept the steaming mug of caffeine shoved my way. Natasha grabs her own mug and settles across from me.

"Try me." She motions for me to continue.

I sigh as I recount what I _really _wanted to be real. "Well, it was about last night. We sang and ate cake, and as we were sitting in the living room, Clint left suddenly. I followed him and found him in his office, and I found out he had asked you out." I watch as her back stiffens. "Yeah. So I comfort him, and we get in a discussion about dating, and then he starts naming all these good things about me, and…" I trail off, blushing.

"And…?"

"And…hekissedme."

"Wow, girl! What was in that cake?"

"I don't know. But then I was his girlfriend. And my dad walked in and there were presents."

She laughs quietly at the last part, before shaking her head sadly. "Too bad that was a dream."

"Right?"

"So your options now are to either go confront Clint about it or go hide in your workshop with your suit for the next two days."

"Hm, I wonder which one I'll choose." My tone is dripping scathing sarcasm because we both know exactly what I'll be doing for the next two days.

Or longer. However long it takes for me to forget about this.

I sigh as I catch the last drop of coffee on my tongue and set my mug in the sink.

"See you into two days!" I call over my shoulder as I head towards the elevator.

Natasha just makes shooing motions.

I'm whispering orders to Jarvis before the lab doors even open.

"Jarvis, get Beta II onto the Launchpad, I'm going for a spin. If I'm not back by the time Dad gets up, tell him where I am and that he should call me."

Jarvis beeps his consent as I head out to the launch pad to where one set of the assembly bots is waiting with Beta II.

Beta II was built about five months after I lost its predecessor, Beta I, in London three years ago. Given that, at the time, we weren't under imminent threat (minus the fact that we still don't know where Loki ran off to), we had time to experiment with new technologies without putting ourselves in danger.

As the holoscreen clicks over my head, I fire up my boosters and pick a random direction.

"Jarvis, activate the cloak screens."

"Yes ma'am."

All radio and satellite signals now deflect off the suit and my radio signal isn't detectable to anyone, not even my dad.

I roll and fire up my thrusters.

"Jarvis, let's go supersonic!"

My command is lost to the wind as I rocket through the skies of New York at over Mach 2.

I laugh to myself as I dart between buildings, flipping and rolling and diving to my hearts' content.

This is why I love what I do. (The saving people thing too, I guess.)

This is where I can forget my problems because I left them on the ground. I can forget embarrassing dreams about my crush. I can kind of forget that we have a psychopathic magical Norse maniac god running free.

Kind of.

I eventually slow down to about fifty miles per hour and turn back towards the tower, ready to face most of my problems head on.

Just not the Clint one. Not yet.

I land and wait as Beta II gets pulled off my body before strolling inside, just barely missing my dad rolling across the room on a chair.

"Morning. Why didn't you call?"

"Just got down here. How was your three hour long flight?"

I glance at a nearby holoscreen to see that it's almost ten a.m. and that my flight did, in fact, last just about three hours. Well, time flies when you're having fun. At supersonic speeds.

I shrug as I fall into my own chair and let my momentum roll me towards my workstation, where holograms await.

**A~A~A**

Two hours later, our steady working rhythm is disrupted by someone – my dad – turning off the music.

I slide out from under the motorcycle I'm currently almost finished with to stare at him, wide-eyed because _you don't just _do _that._

Offense number 1 of the lab: You don't turn off the music unless the world is ending, someone is dying, or it's been a week.

"I know, I know, don't look at me like that. I needed to ask you something."

I raise an eyebrow in question and nod for him to proceed.

"Since you're eighteen now, your room might be getting a little too small."

_Please don't be kicking me out, please do not be kicking me out…_

"So you might need a bigger room."

_Cue sigh of relief._

"What would you say about getting your own suite? Bedroom, bathroom, kitchenette, the whole nine yards?"

"I'd say yes!"

"Alright then! I'll have Jarvis deliver boxes to your room for your stuff. You'll probably be moving onto floor sixty seven, room twenty three, if you want to check it out."

I nod as I stand, cover the almost-finished custom bike, and wipe my hands on my jeans.

I grab my gloves off where I has set them on a nearby table and walk over to the vent cover in the cover and jump in.

I take the well-rehearsed path back to my room – old room, now – before dropping onto a well-placed rug.

I sigh as I begin to sift through the eighteen years' worth of accumulated stuff.

I wrinkle my nose at what I think is an old robot costume before tossing it in the corner.

I smooth out my first blue science fair ribbon before tossing that in the corner, too. (I help run a science _company_ now.)

I don't even attempt to untangle a mysterious ball of wires, they look dangerous.

The first item in a box is my first dagger, the one Coulson gave me when we first met. He said something about me 'having potential' and being 'a heck of a lot more agreeable than my dad'.

I shake my head and wipe my eyes before the memories of Coulson overtake me.

Three years doesn't make it any easier.

I find a prototype Iron Beta sweater I got after Afghanistan and toss it in the box.

I find a picture of Obie and impale it on a bedpost, being careful to avoid the shattered glass.

I find a picture of my dad and I standing in front of a race car – the day Vanko attacked – and flinch slightly but toss it in the box anyways.

I find a S.H.I.E.L.D. visitor's pass, back from when we actually _liked _them, and toss it in the corner with a mental note to burn it later.

I toss an old post-battle report in the corner.

I wince as I gingerly pick up half of a bow – the one Clint gave me three years ago – as I remember the mutant bunny/termite attack, two years ago, that decommissioned it.

Soon after the mutant bunny-mite attack, he replaced it with a bow that was bigger, stronger, and made of adamantium-laced aluminum.

I toss the remnants of the bow into the corner as I uncover a frayed quiver with a hole rusted in the bottom. A lead in Greenland two years ago was cold. And wet. And rusted my quiver.

Clint replaced that too, with my help – oxidation-resistant steel laced aluminum quiver that has interchangeable arrow heads, not unlike Clint's.

I put the paper work for my black Aston-Martin 1-77, gifted to me last year, into the box.

I check one of my old pistols that had found its way under my nightstand and put it gently into the box and toss the rusted bullets.

A rattle causes me to look up from the blueprints of Beta II and III that I was currently examining, and I roll them up and set them in a box before telling Clint he can come down.

He lands – perfect as always – on my rug, looking around at the boxes and clutter.

I quickly glance at him before busying myself with the underside of the bed.

_Don't think about the dream…_

_Don't think about the dream…_

"Are you busy tonight?"

This makes me pause and actually pay attention to where Clint is sitting, cross-legged, on my bed.

"I don't think so…not unless the Loki alarms go off, no, I shouldn't be. Why?"

"Well," he begins, "there's this new pizza parlor that opened up on 4th street that I think you'd like, and that one movie about the genius, Terminator-apes is showing. Wanna go for pizza and catch the next showing?"

I blink at him a few times and discreetly bit my tongue so I know that what he just said was _not_ a dream before realizing he's still waiting for an answer.

"What? Oh…I, uh….yeah, sure, sounds cool. Time?"

"Meet me in the lobby at six."

"Got it."

He stands and looks at the decreasing piles of clutter in my room. "Need any help in here?"

"Nope. I got it covered, thanks."

He nods and jumps back in the vents, latching the cover behind him.

I wait until I'm sure he can't hear or see me before jumping on my bed and doing a happy dance.

**A/N**

**Please, please, please do not kill me for the dream thing. I just felt that they were moving too fast.**

**Claylor WILL happen eventually, I promise.**

**Keep reading and reviewing and enjoying!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What time is it?" I ask, smoothing down my black denim jacket and fiddling with my black-banded gold watch.

"Five minutes past the last time you asked, Taylor. Calm down, vorobey, this isn't even a date." Natasha sooths as she straightens by black fedora.

"Not for him, maybe!" I whine as I glance down at my watch to see I still have ten minutes until Clint joins me in the lobby.

Natasha sighs as she adjusts the strap of my little black leather handbag and makes sure all the necessary weapons – a dagger, pistol, and pepper spray - are inside. "Did he specifically say it was a date?"

"No…"

"Then shut up and stop worrying. I'll cover for you here, just make sure to have a good time. Or else I'll have to hurt you."

I roll my eyes and allow a slight smirk to appear on my face. "You'll make sure my dad thinks I'm with you?"

She pats down the back and hem of my flowing, olive green tank top as she replies. "Yes. However, I'll give you a call if it all goes south."

I lightly smack her on the shoulder. "Don't jinx it. Please!"

She chuckles slightly and her eyes widen slightly as she looks at something over my shoulder. She shoves my shoulder and spins me around before disappearing into the shadows.

I'm left stumbling, both from the sudden turn and what I'm looking at.

Clint looks stunning, wearing black jeans, new-looking black and purple tennis shoes, and a plain purple t-shirt under an unbuttoned black sports coat, and his hair looks freshly spiked.

He smiles once he sees me, raising an eyebrow as he takes in my appearance. "What has you so dressed up?"

I shrug a gesture back towards him. "What has _you_ so dressed up?"

His laugh is music to my ears as he copies my shrug before cutting in front of me and holding the door open. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

**A~A~A**

The drive to the pizza parlor, _Pagolo's Pizza Parlor_, is awkward and uneventful, filled with an even mix of banter and tense silence.

Pagalo's is nice, Italian jazz quietly flowing out of speakers placed in fake plants. Clint and I are seated in a booth for two, perusing the menu as I absently clink the ice in my glass around.

"Hello, my name is Mark, I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you, sweetheart?" the waiter, Mark, completely ignores Clint and he spit-slicks his hair and winks at me.

"Clint," I throw a pointed glance at the archer, "how about you order for us?"

"Okay, Taylor." Clint is glaring metaphorical daggers at Mark. "We'll have the classic pepperoni, but can you make half without pepperoni, just cheese?"

"Of course I can." Mark's unrelenting eyes are making me twitch. "Anything for someone as beautiful as you." Mark does a weird slide/sashay movement as he walks back towards the kitchen, blowing a kiss over his shoulder.

I roll my eyes and shudder slightly. Clint's gaze is flicking between me and where Mark disappeared into the kitchen. He leans towards me, lowering his voice and keeping his lips still as possible. "Do we need to leave?"

I give a tiny shake of my head. "No, Clint, just enjoy the pizza. I've dealt with worse. And I've come prepared." I finger my purse gently.

Clint nods but still keeps the frown on his face as he leans back against the booth and fiddles with his napkin.

We both plaster fake smiles on our faces as Mark comes back with our pizza, still doing that weird sashay.

"One pizza, hot out of the oven. Still cooler than you, though, gorgeous." Mark's smile is creepily blinding as he winks once more.

I simply keep my fake, pearly smile on my face as I blink emotionlessly and wait until he walks away after depositing more napkins on the table.

I accept a plate with two slices of cheese pizza and pick up a napkin from the newly deposited stack,

As I unfold the napkin to put it on my lap, writing catches my eye. I flip it around and turn it right side up, and rolls my eyes again and sigh as I read the message.

_3 playing hard 2 get? I will catch u eventually, u can't hide 4 long. _

_555-246-3382 call me! 3_

I roll my eyes at the misspelled and slightly obsessed message. Clint sees this and raises and eyebrow, putting his slice down mid-bite.

I hand the napkin across the table. Clint wipes his hands on his jeans and accepts the napkin. His spectacular eyes take about five seconds to read the message before he looks at me, back at the napkin, and towards me again.

"Are you sure-"

"Yes, Clint," I cut him off. "Just eat your pizza so we can leave."

Clint nods and crumples the napkin and offers me a small, beautiful grin before picking up his pizza again.

About half an hour later, Mark sashays away after giving us the bill. I pull out my wallet to pick up the bill, or at least split it, but Clint stops me with a soft hand on my wrist and a lighthearted glare. "I got the bill, Taylor. You had to deal with that sleazebag."

"So did you, Clint, let me at least split it?"

"No, Taylor, leave it please."

I nod hesitantly and slip my wallet back into my purse as Clint looks at the bill and frowns, shaking his head.

"What is it? What did they get wrong?"

"Nothing, besides choice of staff." Clint turns the bill to show me Mark has scrawled his number again, below another poorly spelled, gushy, obsessive message.

I huff as I gather my purse, Clint joining me after he crumples the receipt, 'dropping' it, and subtly stepping on it.

We share a fist pump and a laugh as soon as we're outside.

"That guy was a douchebag." Clint pipes up after a few seconds with absolute certainty.

I nod my agreement with a smile. "No, you don't say!"

Clint laughs as he opens the passenger door of the car for me and then goes around to get in the driver's side, getting in and starting the car.

We follow Jarvis' direction to a local movie theater, where _Dawn of the Planet of the Apes_ is playing. Given that the movie has been out for some time, lines are short, and we're seated in the back of a theater with a bucket of popcorn a drinks in no time.

The movie is interesting, if not my type of movie. I enjoy sci-fi robot films, but Clint enjoyed movies like this, so I was happy. Our hands brush every other time we reach for popcorn, our elbows brush as we lean to be able to see better, and he lets me bury my face in his jacket when the movie gets gory.

After the end credits roll, we toss our empty cups and popcorn bucket as we head back towards the car. I laugh as Clint teases me about being able to slay aliens but cowering during a movie. I playfully defend myself with the level of gore in the movie, and the fact that apes should never be able to wield machine guns and torches.

Once we return to the Tower, Clint opens the door for me once again, and I head inside, fully ready to tell Natasha all about my night.

Clint stops me with a hand on my arm, and I look back to see him looking up at the Tower with an unreadable expression.

"Clint?"

"Can we get to the roof without going inside?"

"Um…yeah, I think. If you brought your grappling arrows, which I didn't, there's a section of wall we can use. If not, there should be a fire escape around back."

Clint nods and takes off towards the back of the tower, wordlessly motioning for me to follow him.

Luckily, there is a fire escape back there, and two hundred and seven steps later, we're on the roof.

"Okay, Clint," I pant, "you better…explain why…you made me…climb those stairs."

Clint just gives me a blinding smile and points upwards. I lift my eyes-

-and have my newly regained breath stolen again.

The sky is lit up with stars, constellations as common as taxis in a city. Stars glitter like diamonds against the rich, dark, nighttime sky. The air is cool and a slight breeze ruffles my hair as I gaze upwards.

"_Wow,_ Clint. This is-"

"Amazing? That's my point." Clint calls over his shoulder as he walks towards a small boom box near the edge of the roof. I watch as he presses a few buttons and a slow song – one I recognize as Lady Antebellum's _Dancing Away with My Heart_\- flows softly from the speakers.

Clint walks back to me, straightens his jacket, and bows as he offers me a hand. "May I have this dance?"

I can feel myself blushing as I give a mock curtsy and take the offered hand. "You may."

Clint pulls me towards him and gently puts one hand on my waist as I put one on his shoulder, two of our hands lightly gripping each other as we begin to sway and step to the beat.

"_I finally asked you to dance_

_On the last slow song_

_Beneath that moon that was really a disco ball_

_I can still feel my head on your shoulder_

_And hoping that song would never be over."_

Clint whirls me around and twirls me under his arm, and we're both laughing as I return to my position in front of him.

"_I haven't seen you in ages_

_Sometimes I find myself_

_Wondering where you are_

_For me you'll always be 18_

_And beautiful and dancin' away with my heart."_

Clint begins softly humming and then singing along, and I know I'm blushing but I don't care much at this point.

"_I brushed your curls back so I could see your eyes_

_And the way you moved me was like you were reading my mind_

_I can still feel you lean into kiss me_

_I can't help but wonder if you ever miss me." _

My mind is shoved back to my dream the night before, and I find myself _really_ hoping I'm at least somewhat psychic.

"_I haven't seen you in ages_

_Sometimes I find myself_

_Wondering where you are_

_For me you'll always be 18_

_And beautiful and dancin' away with my heart."_

Clint's beautiful eyes are shining as he suddenly dips me, and he laughs at my stunned expression.

"_You headed off to college_

_At the end of that summer and we lost touch_

_I guess I didn't realize even at that moment we lost so much."_

I pray silently to whatever deity is listening that, even if we do find Loki, he doesn't mess this – whatever it is – up.

"_I haven't seen you in ages_

_Sometimes I find myself_

_Wondering where you are_

_For me you'll always be 18_

_And beautiful and dancin' away with my heart."_

Clint's fingers lightly brush my back, sending shivers up my spine, making the red already on my cheeks darken. Clint, of course, sees this and smirks.

"_Nah nah nah,_

_Nah nah nah,_

_Nah nah nah,_

_Away with My Heart_

_Nah nah nah_

_Nah nah nah_

_Nah nah nah…"_

We sway in place gently as the music fades out, staying in each other's arms for a brief moment before backing away, Clint's fingers brushing against the underside of my own.

Clint gives me a blinding grin as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. "I hope you enjoyed tonight, Taylor."

I blush and nod as I brush a stray hair strand behind my ear. "I did, definitely. Thank you so much, Clint."

He nods and he might have blushed slightly. He turns towards the stairs, pauses and quickly turns back to me. He quickly take two steps towards me, darts in, pecks my cheek – whispering a 'you're welcome' – before backing up and jogging towards and then down the stairs without another word.

Leaving me wide-eyed, shocked, and stunned into silence, one hand brushing where his lips fleetingly met my skin.

**A/N**

**Awwwwww….**

**See? Told you. I have an even bigger Claylor scene next chapter, so hold your horses.**

**But that – that was heart-meltingly adorable, if I do say so myself.**

**Mark was a sleazy douchebag. Thanks to Currahee506 – again – for suggesting him.**

**Keep favoriting and following and reviewing!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Over 100 views and 10 reviews already! Thank you, guys.**

Chapter 4

The next morning found me in the kitchen, humming along to whatever song was currently on the radio, flipping pancakes – a lot of pancakes, have you met my team? – and making sure the eggs didn't burn, all with a seemingly permanent smile on my face.

Footsteps behind me alert me to the presence of another Avenger in the room. I catch a flying pancake just in time and look to see Natasha padding into the room, relaxed and smiling for once.

"Hey, you're up! I never got the chance to talk to you last night." we both say somehow simultaneously and in the same bright tone. Natasha laughs and accepts the coffee and plateful of food I slide towards her before taking everything off the stove and storing it for the rest of the team before sitting down with my own plate and mug.

"So…spill! Leave no detail unsaid!"

I roll my eyes and sip my coffee before I begin letting my mind drift back to last night.

"Well, the pizza place was nice. Pizza was good, but our waiter was – and I quote – a 'sleazy douchebag'. Clint's words, not mine. Creepy dude, a little obsessive. Anyways, Clint paid the bill and we left without castrating anyone. Lines at the movie theater were short, and we shared a popcorn. The movie was…interesting…but a little too realistically gory for me. B-"

"Hold up. What movie?"

"Dawn of the Planet of the Apes."

"I see your point. Continue."

"Anyways, Clint was totally fine with me hiding my face in his jacket when the apes started shooting." I can feel a blush rising on my cheeks that I have a feeling is going to be there for a while.

Natasha coos softly but motions for me to continue.

"He teased me about it the whole way home, but I told him apes should never be able to wield guns and torches, so…" I shudder involuntarily. "The best part was when we got back. He made me take the fire escape up-"

"We have one of those?"

"Yes, building code, something even Tony Stark can't change. Two hundred and seven steps! So he made me take the fire escape up to the roof, but when we got up there, the stars made it all worth it. The sky was clearer than I've ever seen it and you could see thousands of constellations."

Natasha gasps slightly just imagining it, and I nod and take a bite of pancake and swallow before going on.

"So anyways he has this little boom box set up, and there's a song on that I like called _Dancing Away with my Heart_ by Lady Antebellum – you should look it up – and we end up waltzing on the roof. Did you know he's a really good slow dancer?"

Natasha gives a weird half nod. "We danced at galas sometimes to maintain a cover, but that was half-hearted and we were focused on our target. This, on the other hand, sounded like the real deal, so I have no clue."

"So anyways, he spins me and dips me and smirks when he sees my blush. When the song ended, he kissed my cheek! And then almost ran downstairs, but…it was amazing! I felt like a princess, as cliché as that is."

"Who felt like a princess?" Natasha and I both jump to see Bruce making his way into the kitchen.

I quickly blurt out "Nothing!" as Natasha says "Taylor, last night." I send her a glare that clearly asks what on earth she is doing.

Bruce sees this and smiles. "Don't worry, Taylor, I know."

I sigh in defeat and point towards the food on the counter. "Grab a plate and mug Bruce."

Once Bruce has gathered his breakfast and pulled up a third chair, he asks further into our conversation. "So how did last night go?"

"Not as disastrously as I expected. I wanted to castrate the pizza waiter, the movie was gory but Clint was sweet about it, and I got to waltz under the stars." I briefly summarize, hoping Bruce got enough from that so I didn't have to recount the entire night again.

Apparently he did, because he nodded without hesitation. "So he didn't ask you the big question?"

My blush intensifies as I drop my gaze to my mug. "No. I don't think this was even a date."

"If not a date, then what?"

I shrug as I get up to refill my plate and mug. "I don't know, an outing between friends?"

"_Friends_ don't dance to a slow song with each other under the night sky. Couples do."

I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. "He didn't even ask, guys, so can you please drop it?" I glace at Natasha, who had fallen silent and was watching all this with an amused expression. "Both of you?"

They both nod, and the kitchen falls momentarily silent.

"Hey, can you pass the bacon?"

**A~A~A**

Five hours later, I was sitting on the couch reading on a tablet as I waited for the paint coat on my bike to dry. Natasha was curled up on the opposite side of the same couch, her eyes glued to whatever was on the screen. Clint – _down, butterflies, down!_ – was sitting across from me, reading some archery magazine I have yet to get my hands on. Bruce was over in the kitchen, helping Steve wash the dishes from that morning.

Everything was fine until my dad walked in with the mail.

"Bill…bill…noise ordinance warning…politics…junk…parking citation for the Quinjet…"

My dad tosses the envelopes in the trash until he comes across something that cuts him off and catches his eye.

It's a magazine of some sort – the press probably just threw something at us out of left field and it smacked us in the head. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Taylor, what do you know about this?"

I wrinkle my brow as I walk over, my dad asking my opinion on something the press saw or said usually means either a) it has to do directly with me, or b) it's something I should really know is happening.

If you said option A, you'd be correct.

Because my dad is staring at somehow well-lit pictures of Clint and I last night – at the pizza parlor, both entering and exiting the theater, and somehow on the roof mid-song – with the caption: _Young superheroes in love? Continued on page 15._

I huff as I snatch the magazine from my dad and quickly thumb through the pages to fifteen.

There's an article there, asking who Clint is, how old we are, what we're doing, and if my dad knows (_well he wasn't supposed to, idiots…_).

I wave Clint over and show him the article. I can hear him suck in a short breath, but he's taking it all better than I expected.

"Someone start talking, now!"

I sigh as I pass the magazine to Bruce, who reads it with raised eyebrows before passing it on.

"I think it would be easier, dad, if you asked questions."

"Okay. Where were you last night?"

"I was on an…excursion…with Clint. Pagolo's Pizza, the movie theater on 5th, and the roof."

My dad raises an eyebrow at the word excursion, but accepts that anyways. "Are you dating?"

I fight to keep my blush contained to my neck as I glance at Clint and back to my dad. "No…"

"Why did you lie to me last night?"

"I-"

"You could have been hurt! Or mugged! Or jumped in a back alleyway! Neither of you had your bows, you didn't have a suit, and you could have been seriously injured all because you were too busy making puppy eyes at each other!"

"Hey! I-"

"Did you even have _one_ sharp thing on you? One knife? A paperclip? No-"

"Lay off, Stark."

"Stay out of this, Barton!"

I sigh internally – why is it always Clint and my dad going toe-to-toe over me? – as their voices rise.

"No, Stark, if you're done with your little temper tantrum, listen! Your daughter, brilliant resourceful kick-butt genius she is, had a purse packed with knives, a gun, and pepper spray. We were both five seconds away from rendering that waiter unable to ever have kids. So quit freaking out and listen to what she was trying to say."

"If I didn't know better, Barton," my dad sneers, "I'd say you sounded like you were defending you girlfriend."

I sigh audibly this time as I watch my dad and my…my…Clint sneer and snarl and throw barbs.

"Maybe I am."

_Wait, hold up, say what now?_

Clint turns back to me and walks up to me, his eyes shining and his cheeks just a little pinker than normal.

"Taylor, I really enjoyed last night, date or not. If it was a date, I would love so many more in the future. I've been waiting that night for a while, but last night opened my eyes and shoved me to this. So," he takes one of my hands in his, "Taylor Maria Stark, will you be my girlfriend?"

_Malfunction…malfunction…does not compute…_

I try and reply, but choke on the words. On my third attempt at an answer, I finally manage a few squeaked words.

"I-I-yes!"

Clint laughs and pull me close, putting his other arm around my waist and dipping me, not unlike last night.

Except for the part where he presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is so similar to the dream one, I mentally slap myself to validate that, yes I am awake.

Fireworks erupt behind my eyes, shivers crawl through my bones, and my brain stalls.

An eternity that feels too short later, he pulls back and straightens me up, never letting of my hand.

My dad huffs, rolls his eyes, and stomps across the room.

Bruce is grinning as he checks his watch and I think I see a twenty dollar bill slide between him and Natasha, who is grinning from ear to ear as she flashes me a thumbs up.

Steve is doing a great impersonation of a tomato, scratching his neck and taking great interest in the fruit bowl.

Thor is grinning like a toddler who doesn't know what exactly happened, but everyone else is happy and we just kissed, so he'll smile too.

My dad walks tersely back over, tablet in hand and something is flashing and vibrating. "If you two are done with your little love fest, one of the Loki alarms has gone off."

I briefly release Clint's hand to go over to the couch and retrieve the tablet I was reading earlier and call up the Loki alarm control panel and project it into the space above the table.

"What do you have?" I reply with an even, strictly professional tone I usually save for press conferences, reporters, board members, or enemies.

My dad's tone matches mine as he replies. "Traces of magic matching Loki's signature were found in Edison, New Jersey at 2:25 this morning."

"Edison?" Bruce pipes up. "That is really close to the border. Is he headed for us again?"

"And why the time? Jarvis, make a note for me to look into that."

"Yes ma'am."

"That's all we have."

Everyone looks at the leader. Steve paces around the couches as he formulates a battle plan.

"We can spare two Avengers right now, and this might be a false lead. Thor, you and I will go down to Edison to check what your brother left behind, if he left anything. Thor, will you be able to recognize your brother's magic?"

"Enough. I have trained alongside him for many an eon."

Steve nods. "And I'll go for backup." _and to watch Thor._

Steve nods once and walks off in dismissal.

My dad huffs again and walks towards the elevator, mumbling something about dating daughters and fried hawks and Loki.

Bruce follows my dad silently towards the elevator, and I can almost see the algorithms bouncing in his head.

Natasha rolls her eyes at my dad and walks in the other direction, squeezing my shoulder as she passes.

Thor is silent as he follows the path Steve took, probably off to pack.

Clint glances at me and then the vent. "Is there anywhere we can go without people looking for us? Just to talk about Loki, I swear."

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Calm down, Clint, I trust you. I can put my office on lockdown, come on."

I fire a net at the vent cover, unlatch it, and pull myself in, scurrying away from the entrance to give Clint space. Clint soon pops in, and I lead the way to my rarely-used office.

**A~A~A**

Fifteen minutes, one elevator, and one fanboy security guard later, I punch in the command for stage 3 lockdown – soundproofed everything, black windows, no cameras or audio, and only Jarvis access.

I slide my chair closer to my desk, where my boyfriend is sort of half sitting, half leaning on the edge.

"Jarvis pull up all the pictures of the Edison scene."

Several pictures from different angles, all of the same scene, pop up. I shove them towards Clint. "Use those brilliant, beautiful eyes of yours to see if you can find anything in these."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

I give a half smile as I pull up all known information about the numbers two and twenty-five, all significance about the time, and all connections in history and mythology.

Mythology appears clean. No deities – ancient of modern – have any connections to the numbers or the time, nor do any monsters.

So Loki isn't defending anyone's honor or anything.

History is a blank slate as well – nobody was ever doing anything important with those numbers or at that time, anywhere in the world.

Loki isn't trying to remind us of anything, he isn't digging up old grudges.

The time is ordinary: five minutes past 2:20, five till 2:30. Still dark in the morning, blazing hot in the afternoon.

So I settle back to look at the numbers themselves.

Jarvis has pulled up a simple letters to numbers cipher. I shrug as I look for two and five.

2-2-5 would be B-B-E. Not much help there.

2-25 would be B-Y. It's a word, but not much help.

"Try looking at it in military time."

I spin around to see Clint, now cross legged on my desk, peering over his own holograms to look at mine.

"What?"

"Military time. You know, 1400 hours, that's two o'clock, Try looking at 2:25 with a soldier's eyes."

I turn back to my hologram with this new information. If 2:00 is 1400 hours, 2:25 would be 1425.

1-4-2-5 is A-D-B-E. Nope.

14-25 is N-Y.

N-Y.

New York.

"Clint, you genius! I got it!"

Loki was about to pay us a not-so-friendly visit.

**A/N**

**Once again, thanks to Currahee506 for the idea of Clint asking Taylor the 'big question' in front of Tony.**

**Edison is a real place, I don't own it or have anything against it, I just needed a bordering city. **

**Keep enjoying, favoriting, following, and reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **

**I split 5 into two, decent sized parts.**

Chapter 5

I let out a soft growl as I poke a particularly difficult screw on my prototype radio beacon arrows. This new design would basically turn the arrow into a cell tower, which would be amazing. If I could just get it to work.

I glance up as I hear the lab doors swish open.

"Dad."

"Taylor." The tenseness earlier is still present in my dad's shoulders. He's probably down here to work out stress by tossing wrenches around; neither of us has the right mindset to apologize.

I silently turn back to my work and reposition the magnifying glass over the thumb-sized radio transmitter.

"What are you working on?" my dad has positioned himself over my shoulder, like a hawk. Obviously, I like hawks as much as the next girl, but I didn't need the tension in the air that came from him doing so.

"Arrows."

"If those are for Clint, you need to stop working on them. Right now."

I spin in my chair with a challenging look on my face. "And why would that be? Don't give me that they're dangerous, I made sure they weren't."

"Did you? Or were you too busy making out with your boyfriend?"

"What is your problem? Why do you hate Clint all the sudden?" I cross my arms and glare.

"He's dating my daughter! He has no respect for me, neither on the battlefield nor in the Tower! I'm his boss, Taylor, as well as your father!"

"I get the whole 'papa bear' protective thing you have going in. Really, I do. But I expected a shovel talk, like Natasha did, not this whole 'forbidden' thing!"

"I'm still his boss! And he has no respect for me!" my dad is fuming now, you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I'm sure I'm no different.

"Remember that discussion you had with Clint and Natasha about 'boss' being a loose term? You can't say that and then play the 'I'm the boss' card whenever it suits you!"

"What about the disrespect?"

"All I have to say to that is don't go throwing around accusation like you do your money. You wouldn't _believe _the amount of respect Clint has for you, whether it be as a father, on the battlefield, or as a friend."

"He is not my _friend._ Friends so not date their other friend's daughters."

"So you're saying my love life has destroyed your capability to have friends?"

"I have Steve, Thor, Bruce, and Natasha!"

"I'm pretty sure Natasha's on my side with this, she helped set us up, and she roped Bruce in. Thor is playing Switzerland – forever neutral – right now, so don't you dare pull him into this mess. Steve probably doesn't care unless we let our personal lives affect us in the field, which is exactly what you are doing right now."

"I doubt they'll be on your side after today. I own this tower, therefore they must support Me." my dad crows smugly.

"Or what? You'll put them on the curb? Do they deserve that? After all they've done?"

My dad stays silent. By now I'm out of my seat and pacing in front of my dad, who is standing behind his work table.

"And, in case you've forgotten, as soon as the team moved in, you signed parts of the tower away. Bruce owns his lab. Steve owns the main gym. Clint owns the archery range. Natasha owns the main gun range. Thor owns a smaller sub gym. So you don't own the Tower anymore. There's an A up top, not Stark."

"You're missing the point here: You can't date Clint. He's rude, disrespectful, and you could really do better."

I freeze in my pacing, do an about face, and fix my gaze on my dad. "I can and will date Clint. He's not rude; he's sarcastic, but I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know the difference. He is by no means disrespectful, and I could do no better. He's one of the best things that's ever happened to me." My voice is deathly calm and even. This voice was usually saved for Fury, but I suppose it has other uses as well.

I shake my head and huff, "I'm going out. Don't call, you can't track me, so don't try."

I stomp my way past my desk, grabbing my new motorcycle helmet along the way. The helmet is a sleek, black, glossy design with a visor that acts as a holoscreen. Simpler than the one in the suit, of course, but it has Bluetooth and Jarvis.

I punch a code into a keypad mounted to the wall next to my work station. A door opens and I walk into a space about the size of your average shed. The only thing occupying the space is my motorcycle.

My bike is a custom designed bike, modeled after real bikes, but with a few bells and whistles.

It's a small bike, longer than it is wide. It's skinny and sleek, made for really high speeds, with a touchscreen dashboard and top of the line suspension. The rider – me – is meant to be in a half sitting, half lying down position, somewhat like a jockey. The bike is mainly back, but a few plates are the same blue as my arc reactor.

I tuck my helmet onto my arm as I walk over to another keypad by the bike. I punch in my code a second time, and a platform lowers me and my bike down a few floors in a sort of private elevator to a small underground area with a ramp onto street level.

I pop the helmet on and press a button by my neck for the visor to flip down. The holoscreen lights up and Jarvis greets me as I straddle my bike and press the power button.

With the flick of a wrist and the twist of a handle, I zoom out onto the streets of the city.

**A~A~A**

About an hour later, Jarvis informs me I have a call coming in from Clint. I tell him to answer it.

My boyfriend outweighs my need for separation.

"Hello?"

"_You okay?"_

"Define 'okay'."

"_Content, happy, able to be found in your own home."_

"Then no, I'm not okay. How'd you know I wasn't home?"

"_Well about fifteen minutes ago, I went looking for you because I was bored, and none of the others knew where you were, but Bruce said you disappeared into the lab around eight thirty. I went down there, but your dad was the only one in the lab and there was a wrench-shaped dent in the wall. He said - snapped, more like – that you had disappeared about forty-five minutes ago and that you might be in your room. By the way, did you know your dad blocked the vents in the lab?"_

"No, I didn't. I'll explain why later. Carry on."

"_So I had to walk to your room, but it was dark and you weren't in there. I texted you, you didn't answer, so I called."_

"Well, thanks for worrying. I took my new bike out for a spin, couldn't answer texts."

"_Then how are you calling?"_

"Bluetooth Jarvis helmet."

"_You never cease to amaze me,"_

"Thank you."

Clint's laughter echoes slightly in my helmet.

"_So do you wanna meet for lunch somewhere or you wanna be alone?"_

"Lunch? With my amazing boyfriend who actually bothered to look for me when my dad didn't? Sounds perfect."

"_Got any place in mind?"_

"No, but I'm sure Jarvis does. I'll have him look for restaurants near us serving what we like and I'll send one to you."

"_Got it. Love you sparrow, see you soon."_

"Love you too, hawk. Bye."

**A/N**

**StarksDaughter: your cuddling scene will come eventually, probably after all the action.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As soon as Jarvis disconnects the call, I have him start searching for popular restaurants near me and the tower.

I immediately dismiss the top ten, because they're all either 'new age' or loud bars. Eleven and twelve host shady crowds, and I'd like to be able to eat without one hand on my knife. Thirteen through fifteen are all too far from the tower to make it worthwhile for Clint.

Sixteen looks promising, though. A little mom and pop hole in the wall called Bluebird Burgers. Some random person on Facebook says they have fries to die for. They're about a midpoint between my location and the tower.

I tell Jarvis to send the details to Clint and give me directions. A little arrow pops up on the corner of my screen, and I'm pulling into the parking lot in no time.

I can see Clint waiting by the door as I raise the visor of my helmet and lift it off. He sees me and walks over, and grin lighting up his face.

He kisses me softly and then stands back to admire the bike. He rocks back on his heels with a low whistle as he takes it all in. I swing a leg over to get off the bike and stash my helmet in the back storage compartment.

"You like it?"

"It's amazing, Taylor. What'd your dad think?"

If he notices my slight flinch, he doesn't say anything, only laces our hands together as we head through the door.

"He liked it. I think. We had a bit of a different topic on our minds this morning." I say uneasily as Clint pulls my chair out for me and I sit.

"Right. Sorry about that. Do I need to hurt someone?" Clint narrows his eyes and looks at me with skeptical hope.

I laugh as I shake my head. "No. Not yet, bird boy."

Clint leans back with a smirk and an eye roll. "Whatever, gear girl."

"Good one."

"Thank you. What are you getting?"

"Did you see the Cupid special? Endless burgers and fries for two, 19.99?"

"One burger then pig out on fries?"

"I like the way you think, Mon amour."

Clint blinks in surprise at the French. "You speak French?"

"Nope." I said, popping the 'p'. "That's years of listening to my dad's cheesy pickup lines showing."

Clint opens his mouth to reply, but anything he might have said was cut off by the approach of our waitress.

"Hi, I'm Sharon, I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?"

Sharon looks to be about in college, with brunette hair highlighted blonde tied back in a ponytail. Her smile seems genuine as her gaze flicks evenly between me and Clint, and thankfully – for her own safety – she doesn't try and throw herself onto my boyfriend.

I relax as Clint orders, only piping in with my drink order when necessary.

Sharon whisks away with a smile, and Clint turns to me with a curious gaze.

"If you don't mind me asking," His tone is wary and gentle, "what happened this morning?"

I sigh and run a hand through my hair as I begin. "Well, I was in the workshop working on those beacon arrows I told you about when he comes in. He hovers over my shoulder and tells me that if they are for you I need to stop working on them."

Clint tilts his head and frowns. "Why? They're safe, they always are if you make them."

I nod. "That's what I said. Then he accuses me of being too busy making out with you to check their safety." Clint's frown deepens. "He then goes on to accuse you of being rude and disrespectful and pulls the 'boss' card, as well as the 'father' card, then goes on a rant about how he owns the tower and everyone should be on his side. Essentially, he hates you for dating me."

Clint doesn't get mad like I expected him to. He doesn't reach for the knife I know he has in his boot, or the one inside his jacket.

Instead he slumps in his seat, his gaze falling to the table.

"Clint? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Taylor. None of this would have ever happened had I not asked you out."

Silence falls for a few seconds.

"Clint, sweetie?"

"Yes?"

I reach across the table to squeeze his hand. "Shut up. It sounds like you're breaking up with me, and you asked me out _yesterday_. None of this is your fault. My dad isn't naturally protective. He can't be, not with the life we lead. Between the press, Stane, Vanko, Loki, and the supervillains we get almost every week, my dad can't completely protect me from it all. And he knows it. I think he's trying too hard to protect what little he can, and therefore overdoing it. It should pass in a few days."

Clint lifts his gaze to my face, his eyes filled to the brim with admiration. He glances around us quickly before leaning across the table and giving me a quick yet firm and tender kiss.

"Not that I didn't enjoy that," I say with a small smile, "but what was that for?"

"For being an amazing genius girlfriend any guy would be lucky to have."

"I don't want any guy, I want my hawk."

Clint beams, but his grin fades. "Um, I need to go to the restroom, be right back."

I nod and shoo him away, discreetly watching butt as he jogs towards the bathroom.

As soon as Clint is out of sight, Sharon sweeps in with our food.

"One Cupid special, one burger with cheese plain, the other with mustard, ketchup, tomatoes, and lettuce, and one large basket of fries."

I thank her as I accept my food. She turns away to go back to her job, but hesitates slightly before turning back to me.

I raise an eyebrow as I munch on a fry – Facebook person was right, these _are _awesome fries.

"Um, if you don't mind me saying so, I was just looking at you and your boyfriend interact, and I really think you hit the jackpot."

I grin as I swallow the fry before replying. "I don't mind. And yes, I know, he's amazing. Thanks for not hitting on him."

She looks confused. "Why would I do that?"

I glance at my food before scratching my neck and replying. "We had a nasty waiter on our first date. Creepy guy, kept throwing himself onto me." I shudder at the memory.

She frowns. "You didn't deserve that. You deserve a guy like…"

"Clint."

"A guy like Clint. Well," she grins again, "now you've got him. If only all girls could attract such beautiful men as you."

I smile. "If only, right?"

She smiles and glances towards the restrooms. Clint is coming back, so she picks up her tray, thanks me, and gets back to her job.

"Talking about me?" Clint asks as he slides back into his seat.

"She was congratulating me on my choice of boyfriend."

"Hey! _I _asked _you _out."

"And I accepted. Now shut up and eat, birdbrain."

He does.

An hour later, we've both polished off our burgers and two baskets of fries, and accepted the bill. I made sure to tip Sharon heavily as we walked out the door.

"So, a repeat?"

"Definitely. Good food, non-creepy wait staff…"

"I'll have Jarvis save the address."

I'm about to climb on my bike when I stop. "Clint, how did you get here?"

"Bus. I can catch another one if you wanna go somewhere else."

"Hop on, Jarvis can play chauffer. So, where to?"

"Exploring the city, unless you want to go back home."

"Exploring sounds good. I'll use Jarvis to check in with Tasha, Steve, and Bruce."

Clint nods and follows me out front. He hops on my bike, accepting the spare helmet I hand him, and I sit behind him and wrap my arms around him.

Jarvis pulls us into traffic, and we ride off into the noon-day sun.

**A~A~A**

If I didn't have a flying suit, I would have to say the most liberating thing in the world is motorcycle.

I whip through New York with the visor up, letting the wind brush my face as I laugh and Clint joins me.

We're exchanging battle stories Jarvis informs me that another Loki alarm has gone off, but none of the others seem to realize.

My brow crinkles as I immediately signal for Clint to pull over hop off the bike as soon as he does so.

"Taylor, what's going on?"

"Loki alarm went off, no one is noticing. Change of plans, back to the tower, now. This can do 200, but we can go slower."

Clint shakes his head and hops off the bike. "No, I'll catch a bus. Go! The tower might be compromised."

I nod and get ready to dart back into traffic, but Clint's voice stops me.

"One more thing."

I lift my visor and give him an exasperated glance.

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. "Be safe."

"Always am."

He give me a mock salute before standing out of my way. I flip my visor down once more, power up my bike, and shoot between two cars, doing almost three times their speed.

**A~A~A**

I arrive at the tower to see that everything looks normal. I park my bike in a parking space and walk towards the lobby entrance.

As soon as my boot his the marble flooring, every light in the room goes out.

And that doesn't just happen in the tower running on clean energy.

"Jarvis?"

No answer besides static.

"Jarvis, answer me!"

"Oh, but he won't save you. None of your precious team will." A voice whispers in my ear. I spin and reach for my knife, but it isn't there. Neither is my gun.

"Your weapons can't help you, either." A cloaked figure steps out of the darkness, my weapons clattering to the ground in front of it.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I ask warily, moving into a combat stance.

The figure snaps its fingers, and suddenly I can't move or speak, only breathe.

I fall to the floor with a thud as my captor draws their hood back slightly.

"I think you already know."

A pair of green snake's eyes are the last thing I see before it all goes black.

**A/N**

**You know the drill. Read, review, favorite, follow.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

-Clint's POV-

The first sign of something being wrong was Taylor's bike.

She loved that bike. It was created from her blood, sweat, and tears. Maybe not blood, but definitely sweat and tears.

So to see it haphazardly parked in the parking lot was disturbing.

I can feel my shoulders tense and my hands twitch towards one of my many knives as I pick up the pace and jog towards the lobby doors.

Second sign: the lobby is dark. And from all of Stark's bragging, I knew that being the biggest name in clean energy meant that didn't happen. Ever.

I draw one of my knives as I get into building sweeping position. I cautiously fling open a door and jump out the way.

Nothing. The lobby is completely silent and ominously pitch black.

I flick on my flashlight beam and seep it slowly back and forth, looking for any signs of what happened.

I do a double take as something glints in the path of the beam. It's a blade.

A very familiar blade.

I race forward and crouch next to the blade, confirming it as Taylor's knife.

Her pistol is about a foot away. And about two feet past that is a charred black circle, about a foot and a half wide.

My breath catches as I recognize the scene from the pictures of Edison.

Which means Loki is involved.

I bolt for the stairs.

**A~A~A**

"What do you mean, Taylor's been taken? This is not funny, Barton!"

"Do you see me laughing, Stark? Why would I joke about this?"

"Because you joke about everything else! You-"

"Boys!" Natasha snaps, "Taylor is missing and every second yo two spend arguing is a second she might not have. So would it kill you two to act civil for a few hours?"

I nod once at Natasha before crossing the room to lean against the kitchen counter, infinitely grateful I left my sunglasses on so they can't see the pure worry that I know is leaking out of my eyes.

I shake my head and switch to 'assassin mode' – stoic, detached, and emotionless – as Steve, who sped up his flight home as soon as he heard the news, begins talking.

"One thing about this is clear: Loki was behind it all. Why he targeted Taylor, I have no idea. Where he took her, no idea. Any ideas?"

"I have a theory." Natasha's voice is even and steady, signifying she too has slipped into assassin mode. "On the why. The way I see it, Taylor is the heart of this team. Steve is the head, the leader, but a body is instantly dead without the heart. Taylor is also the youngest, therefore endowing all of us," she waves a hand around the room, "with a need to protect her."

Bruce snorts from his spot, leaning against an arm on the couch, arms crossed. "Well we didn't do a very good job, did we?" His voice is bitter, a bitterness I can see reflected on every face in the room.

"Yeah," I speak up from my corner of the room, "why was her Loki alarm the only to go off? He was just downstairs in the lobby, literally five floors away from the nearest Avenger. Nobody else noticed anything?"

Thor speaks up, his voice thoughtful with a slight dusting of frustration. "My brother's magic works in ways even the best sorcerers on Asgard cannot understand. He may have interfered with the signal or created illusions to distract us."

I shake my head. "It must have been signal interference. I was less than six inches away from Taylor when the signal went off, there were no illusions involved." I pointedly ignore Stark's dirty look.

Thor nods pensively but stays silent, so I turn to Steve. "So, Cap, what now?"

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his already messed up hair. "We have two options here: try and go solo here, which I advise against, or we can widen our search area and increase manpower. Which would mean asking S.H.I.E.L.D. for help."

I quickly glance around the room.

Traded glances and expressions show that the decision is unanimous.

"I'll call the Hellicarrier."

**A~A~A**

"Didn't we explain this already, Fury? No, we are not rejoining. We need help. Does the word _liaison_ mean anything to you?"

I can't help but feel amused as I stand back and let Stark exercise one of his best talents: annoying people until they consent just to get him off their backs. Except he's madder than Fury himself, so I really don't know what this is anymore.

"Does the term _Indian giver_ mean anything to _you_? The Avengers gained a copyright two years, eleven months, and two days ago, Stark. You can't just waltz back in here like you own the place and demand our resources!"

"I _do_ own this place! The Hellicarrier was a gift, Fury, from yours truly. You're extremely lucky I haven't repossessed it yet!"

"You can't. Remember the contracts, Stark?"

Something snaps. Stark's normally humorous eyes darken, his spine stiffens, and his fists clench.

"_Contracts_? My daughter got stolen from right under my nose and you think I'm worried about _contracts_?" His voice is lower than usual, each word clipped and hard. "I will find her, Fury, mark my words. The speed at which we find her is the difference between life and death. If I find her body, I will not be happy." The last word is a mix between a hiss and a growl as he turns and storms out the door. I send my former boss a glare I am certain he can see through the sunglasses as I follow.

The first thing I do upon returning to the guest room I was assigned is pick up the nearest thing – the nightstand – and hurl it against the wall, leaving a shattered table and cracked plaster.

None of this is fair.

I am well aware that life usually isn't fair, but this seems exceptionally cruel.

Taylor has done nothing to Loki besides fight for the people and world she believed in.

I sigh as I drag a bow case out from my bed. It isn't mine, but I'm positive the owner would want me to keep it safe.

I sigh as I run a finer over the carved sparrow in the center of the polished black metal as I unlatch and open the case, silting with my back against the side of the bed as I gently cradle the bow.

I trace a finger over the delicate raised pearl design and sigh as I let my head fall back to rest on the bed.

_Maybe that's what Loki thinks Taylor is, _my mind reasons, _delicate._

_There are many words to describe Taylor Stark, _the other side of my brain counters, _but delicate is not one of them._

_But then why do you protect her?_

_Because she trusts me enough to do so._

I wince. Because a) I'm arguing with myself, and b) that one side of my brain is right.

I am only able to protect her because she trusts me and my abilities enough to do so.

And I let her get kidnapped. Well, that trust just flew out the window.

I make a noise that is somewhere between a groan and a whimper as I lay her bow on my feet, pull my knees to my chest, make a pillow with my arms, and hang my head.

**A/N**

**Aww, poor Clint. Anybody else feel like hugging him?**

**I wrote this, I knew this was coming, but it still breaks my heart.**

**Keep reading and reviewing and enjoying!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**

**WARNING: graphic and gory descriptions of torture and wounds. Also, Loki is acting insane. Skip if you don't want to read. **

Chapter 8

The first thing I noticed when the darkness faded was I_ hurt._

The second was that I wasn't in Stark Tower anymore.

I shake my head a few times to clear the last of the darkness and try to get a bearing on my surroundings.

I was surrounded by dark, moldy wall, the only light coming from an inch-wide slit, high on the wall to my left.

I was kneeling on a rough concrete floor and my knees were already starting to hate me. My arms were bound at right angles behind my back; left wrist to right forearm and vice-versa. My mouth was sealed shut with what I think was duct tape. My legs were bound just below the knees and again at the ankles, and I think my ankles were chained to a wall. The apex of the pain was coming from my right shoulder. I crane my neck the best I could to view the damage, and immediately regret it.

My prosthetic arm, normally able to withstand about double the force of a human arm, is crushed from the joining point with my stump to about the elbow like it was made of tinfoil and not steel. The human part of my shoulder was white as a sheet – no doubt matching the rest of my body – allowing me to see the red steadily dripping from the underside of the joining point with the crushed prosthetic.

I shiver slightly as I watch the blood fall, drawing my attention to the fact that I was only wearing the thin white t-shirt I had donned this morning and a pair of short, black, gym shorts that were not mine.

I gag and shudder. _God, I hope Loki didn't put those on._

The heavy click of the vault door in front of me being unlocked jerked my head up. I shift slightly, wincing as my knees burn.

The door opens slightly and a very familiar, green eyed psychopath slid in just before the door slams shut with a clang that bounces off the walls.

I keep my eyes fastened on his dress shoes as he walks up to me, stopping just in front of me.

"Well, well, well." His voice is almost a purr, "What do we have here? Are you enjoying your stay?"

I glare up at him the best I can in my position. "What do you want, Loki?"

"Oh, only you, my dear."

"Sorry," I drawl, "but I don't think my boyfriend would like that."

Loki's smirk turns into a look of pure fury as he backhands me across the face, snapping my head to the side so fast that I mentally add whiplash to my list of injuries.

I gag again as the coppery taste of blood coats my tongue, wishing I could spit out my blood instead of inevitably swallowing it – along with a tooth.

Loki reaches down to grab my hair, yanking it back so I'm forced to look him in the eye.

"You, my dear, are only a step in world domination. I _will _rule this dump you call a planet, and soon. Your trivial Avengers – heroes, ha! – are the only thing between me and a glorious golden age."

I look at Loki skeptically – glorious golden ages born from the minds of psychopaths are usually anything but.

Loki either doesn't notice my look or doesn't care, because his monologue carries on. "As long as I have you, Daughter of Iron, the rest are putty in my hands. I briefly considered controlling you – expanding your mind – but I figured you being so vulnerable," he waves a hand towards my hunched, bleeding figure, "would give them the extra push. I bet they are looking for you as we speak. Their grief is delightful! Anyhow, while we wait, shall we have some fun?"

Loki snaps his fingers and a cart of sharp, painful looking objects appears by his side, along with a camera in the upper right hand corner of the room.

He reaches down and violently rips the tape off my mouth, leaving my lower lip split and bleeding.

"Say hello to your team, dear!" He grabs my chin and forcefully turns my chin towards the camera.

"Now, which toy to play with first…" he walks over to the cart, deliberately taking his time. Picking one sharp thing up just to put it back and choose another.

He eventually selects a long wooden pole.

He stands by my side as he raises the pole and brings it down to my back, the impact making a sharp _CRACK!_

I grit my teeth against the stinging burn.

_Focus on happy thoughts…_

_CRACK!_

_Dad…Clint…_

_CRACK!_

_The workshop…my bow…_

_CRACK!_

_My suit…_

_CRACK!_

_My team…_

_CRACK! CRACK!_

_Please hurry…_

A howling, sobbing, shrieking scream finally bursts from my mouth as Loki gives my back one last particularly violent swing before walking out, careful to avoid the growing blood puddle.

Loki pauses just before the door, not even turning back as he speaks. "Oh, and one last thing."

He snaps his fingers again, causing a torrent of ice-cold water to pour only over me, never hitting the ground, leaving me shivering and cold in my ripped thin t-shirt.

The door closes with a thudding finality.

I take a quick scope of my injuries. My back is a torn, raw, freely-bleeding mess. My t-shirt is shredded in back. My chest hurts, partially because about half my ribs are shattered and partially because I think the water invaded my reactor, the light is staring to flicker and spark.

My knees are bruised beyond recognition from the unforgiving floor, and my mouth has more blood in it than saliva. I finally spit a glob of blood on the ground, thankful for the missing gag.

I'm panting like a dog – or my dad after a run.

Thoughts of my dad bring tears to my eyes. The last thing we did before I got kidnapped was argue.

I may be eighteen, but right now I need my dad to find me and help me and take me home.

I let exhaustion overcome me, and I fall awkwardly onto my side, not even caring that I'm lying in a pool of blood that was supposed to be _inside _me because I'm hurt, I'm shivering, my lifeline isn't exactly stable, and I'm just _so tired._

The last thing my blurry vision catches is the red light on the camera blinking out.

**A/N**

**Should I do another Clint or Tony or someone else POV about them watching the video of what just happened? I might be able to upload it today if you guys review with **_**yes **_**or **_**no**_**.**

**Keep reading and reviewing please!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

-Tony's POV-

It's hard to sleep on a top secret ship full of people that deem it fit to wake up at the crack of dawn.

And the small fact that your daughter had been taken by a psycho maniac god. Small fact.

I untangle myself from the blankets and hop through the shower, washing the dirt and grease off my face and putting my mask back in place.

After donning an old band t-shirt and a pair of old black jeans, I head down to the cafeteria to see if the coffee really does poison you like the rumors say.

After waiting in a line full of entirely too-awake people, I take my tray laden with lukewarm oatmeal, an apple, and some milk back to an empty table in the corner, ignoring the mixed looks agents are giving me.

I get that you might not like us for being independent, but keep it to yourself. And quit pitying me, my daughter is MY daughter after all, ever heard of Afghanistan?

Barton is the next Avenger in the cafeteria, and as much as I hold grudges, the dude looks _horrible_. His hair is sticking in all directions, his half-lidded eyes are accompanied by dark spots and bags the size of Texas, and his stoic assassin mask looks like it never existed in the first place.

I simply glance his way and grunt to recognize his presence. He huffs in return before plopping into a seat and becoming the target for 150% of my pitying looks.

Eventually all six of Earth's Mightiest Heroes – all of us that are here, anyways – are huddled around the table. Breakfast his silent, nobody talking for fear of mentioning Taylor, Loki, this whole situation, or the fact that nobody looks like they got a wink of sleep last night.

I gag down the last of my now cold oatmeal and catch the last drop of milk on my tongue before getting up to throw away my trash, fully prepared to spend my day locked in a lab when Maria Hill comes racing into the cafeteria and beelines for our table.

"We have just received a video from an unknown source and we suspect it has information on Ms. Stark. Fury is waiting on the bridge, get there ASAP!"

We all trade quick glances, and suddenly I'm leading a bunch of superheroes on a spring through the Hellicarrier, Barton hot on my heels.

We make it to the bridge in record time, each of us diving for a chair. Once everyone is seated, we all wordlessly look at the Director, who turns, points a remote at a decent-sized monitor, and presses play.

The monitor buzzes with static before the static fades to reveal a small concrete room – cell, I correct myself – with two occupants.

I choke on my breath because Loki is standing over my daughter, who is bound in a _very_ uncomfortable looking position and bleeding, no doubt by his hand. The only thing keeping me hinged is the spark raging in my daughter's eyes.

"Stark," Natasha's voice is barely a whisper, "her arm. Look at her arm."

My eyes fly to the only arm we can really see, her right prosthetic one. I wince when I see that the arm is crumpled like a tin can from the elbow up and a red puddle is steady growing beneath her stump.

Then the audio kicks in.

I growl at Loki's voice and cheer at my daughter being a feisty little kidnap victim. Red tinges my vision at the slap, stays there through the monologue, and then floods my vision as Loki brings the stick down.

The crack echoes through the room, met with a series of shouts and growls and cries of outrage.

And then _oh my god, oh my god, so much blood, so much blood…_

Cries of outrage turn into whimpers as the stick cracks once, twice, three times, until some of us – myself included – have tears running down our faces at seven.

I grit my teeth and start thinking of ways to kill Loki as he walks out of the room like nothing happened, curling a fist over my own reactor as the water makes Taylor's flicker and spark.

We all jump as the vault door slams, leaving Taylor bleeding, cold, wet, and exhausted.

She winces as she rocks her body this way and that, movements I realize as a physical self-check.

Just from external appearances, I know her right arm is broken, she may had a few problematic ribs, her knees must hurt like nothing else, and of course her reactor is still sparking.

I whimper again as she falls onto her side into a pool of her own blood, but she barely registers that fact.

The look she sends the camera is one of pain, grief, guilt, exhaustion, desperation, and just about every other negative emotion in the world.

I have no clue how the others read it, but I'm suddenly reminded of the moment before her first science fair, when I had to nudge her on stage and she looked her shoulder with that look.

The room falls silent as the video goes static and then fades to black, and I take a moment to categorize my teammates' reactions to what they just witnessed.

Thor looks incredibly frustrated, sparks dancing in his eyes as he makes wind whip across the room, his fingers gripping Mjolnir as I suddenly see not Thor: goofy, loud-spoken Avenger, but The Mighty Thor: fearsome warrior, Prince of Asgard, god of thunder.

Steve has one hand covering part of his face and the other clutching his stomach, looking like he finally saw the one thing that could break him. He does, however, look like he's out for blood, so there's still hope for our Captain yet.

Bruce looks incredibly green, whether from anger or nausea is unclear – probably both. For once he's not even trying to calm the green in his eyes, and I have a feeling he and Hulk want relatively the same thing: to smash Loki. Again.

Natasha is staring at the black screen, one hand clenched around a wicked, seven inch long, serrated knife that I have a feeling is going to be hitting target while she's imagining Loki on them later.

Barton's reaction scares me.

And I don't scare easily.

But Barton is standing tense behind his chair, his fingers curled around the back so tight he's breaking the fabric and he might be bending something inside. His normally gentle, humorous grey-ish eyes are now darkened to the point that they look black, smoldering a rage that could take down Hulk. His teeth are bared in a snarl directed at the screen.

He looks like a scared, cornered animal, and those never end well.

I share a silent look with Fury, who nods almost imperceptibly.

We need to get to wherever that is, and fast.

For Taylor's safety and our sanity.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I groan as I roll over and my ribs scream.

Someone yells in a language I can't recognize as a boot slams into my hip.

It's not Loki; he would never wear boots, much less get them dirty. One of his Asgardian thugs: little brain, big muscle.

I wince as I pain rockets through my hip. I'd been here – wherever 'here' was – for about four days now, and the only hope I had was my early bruises fading and cuts healing.

The thug kicks me in the ribs one more time before saying something in the same foreign language before walking out and letting the door slam.

I do a variation of the inchworm to lift myself up as I check my new injuries. My hip is protesting every tiny movement, my ribs hurt even more than they did in the morning, and my head feels like a hot railroad strike got pounded through it. Fresh blood is on my neck, most likely from my head, which is _not_ good.

I set myself back on the ground and whimper again as I wait for the fresh wounds to at least stop bleeding.

Why was help taking four days to get here? I had a team of six of the most stubborn people on Earth, one of which was my boyfriend, another my dad.

Whatever happens, I hope nobody blames themselves, nor anybody but Loki.

Loki, on the other hand, they can hurt.

I'll be cheering them on from wherever I end up, I suppose.

_No, Taylor, bad thoughts. Think about other things._

_Like what, exactly, the fact that my entire body aches and the thing that powers my heart is unstable at best?_

_No, just have faith in your team, they'll be here in no time._

_But-_

"Shut up!" I scream, ignoring my ribs for a moment to silence my warring, pounding head.

I breathe a wheezing sigh as silence settles over me.

**A~A~A**

About three hours later, the explosions start.

I jerk upright upon instinct, then my shrieking, bound-to-the-gills body reminds me I can't do that right now.

As I lay back down, a glowing green ring about four feet in diameter forms around me, and my reactor starts pulsing and sparking and flickering, eventually settling into a cruel, even pattern of pulses.

Each time the reactor pulses, I get electrocuted.

Each time I get electrocuted, my muscles cramp all over my body.

Each time my muscles cramp, I scream in pain.

Pulse.

Cramp.

Scream.

Repeat.

Footsteps pound outside my door, and I pray to every deity minus Loki that my screams have attracted help, not more pain.

_Please do not let it be pain…please let it be a good guy…_

"I hear something!"

My heart tentatively soars at the sound of that voice, keeping in mind that it could be magic, or a synthesizer, or-

My heart plummets as a thug bursts through the door, barreling for me. I brace for the feel of a boot crushing a bone, I see the boot raise above my head…

Nothing. I watch almost in slow motion as an arrow sprouts from the back of the thug's head, then he has no head because it's been blown off.

The distinct smell of repulsors burning flesh fills the air as I give a weak smile.

A figure leaps through the door, bow in hand, followed by a second figure, this one in hot rod red armor.

My dad and Clint both race towards me, but my eyes fall on my dad's reactor as I remember the green circle.

"Dad, stop!" I croak as I spasm and scream as another round of pulses hits me. "Reactor…pulse…no help…do not…cross…"

Clint gets my message ad holds my dad back waiting for my words to register in his brain.

My dad eventually stops struggling against Clint and fixes me with the gaze he gives to a particularly troublesome piece of tech.

I give him a wavering smile that quickly fades as emerald smoke fills a corner of the room, dissipating to reveal Loki himself, flanked by two of the biggest thugs he has.

I can't help the slight flinch I give when I see him. Clint notices this and has and arrow notched and pulled, ready to fire in under two seconds.

"Aha, Man of Iron, Hawkeye, I see you have found my prize." The last word is a pure malicious purr.

"Loki, I swear, one more word-" my dad raises a gauntlet and charges it, the light growing steadily.

Thugs one and two step in front of Loki, shoving my dad back into the doorway and stunning him long enough for Loki to put a green bubble around him, trapping him there.

"Ah, ah, paly nice now boys. You know, this would be _so_ much easier if you would put down you weapons and allow me to expand your minds."

"-my mind is big enough, thanks-"

"-never doing _that_ again-"

"Oh, but it'll be so much fun! You'll have the most gorgeous blue eyes."

Clint and my dad both snort and give derisive eye rolls.

"And you will be standing next to my throne, rulers in a new age, a golden age. Think of all the respect! The fear!"

"Yeah," my dad interjects from his bubble, "I tried the 'rule by fear' thing once, and it didn't work out too well."

"WILL YOU IMENCIBLES QUIT INTERRUPTING? Now join me or be destroyed. Choose now."

Clint and my dad glance at each other, then me, and Clint shrugs as he raises his bow and re-notches an arrow.

Loki just laughs. "Alright then let's do this the fair way. After all, I have been completely fair this entire time."

"Yeah, Reindeer Games, not seeing the fair part of all this."

Loki just raises an eyebrow at my dad and gestures towards me, still a crumpled bloody mess. "She is still, alive, is she not? I could have ended her back in your precious Tower."

The two capable Avengers in the room nod hesitantly.

"But," Loki raises his scepter towards me, "she will not be alive for long. Not unless one of you steps forward instead."

Nobody moves, so Loki moves the spear about six inches closer to me.

I glance at my teammates for their reactions. My dad is hopelessly struggling against his bubble, watching the scene but unable to do much of anything.

I turn to Clint, and I'm shocked by the complete one-eighty shown on his face.

His face is now pale and white, eyes wide and hands shaking and looking like he could fat any moment.

Uneasy silence falls as each of us weigh our mortality.

"No."

I send a panicked glance towards Clint, silently willing him to _shut up shut up please shut up._

"No. Me instead, take me instead. Please, just don't hurt her." Clint's voice is shaking as he sets down his bow and falls to his knees, raising his hands into the air.

"Aha, the little hawk. Good to see you again. Shall we see what your teammates think?"

Clint slowly glances to where I'm writhing on the floor. His eyes are pure anguish as they meet mine.

"Clint…please…"

"Taylor, shhh. It'll be okay, sparrow, I promise. You'll find someone else, it'll be okay. Just…just keep dancing away with my heart." Clint finishes with a sad smile.

He turns to my dad, who opens his mouth, only to close it again. Dad finally settles on one solemn nod of remembrance and acceptance.

Clint closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as Loki raises his scepter.

A blue beam lights up the room as Clint is thrown backwards, slamming against the opposite wall.

My raw scream rings out just as Thor, Steve, and Hulk smash the door down, Natasha right on their tail.

Faces hover over me as I catch phrases like 'Loki', 'magic', 'Asgard', and 'healers'.

The last thing I see is a glint of gold metal.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The first thing I heard when I came to was not the harsh beep of some monitor or another but someone humming a melody I didn't recognize.

For a moment, I thought I was dead. Then my ears started working

"…vitals…Loki…magic...reactor…"

Everything comes crashing back as my eyes fly open.

Loki, pain, stick, blood, reactor, failing, pain, dad, Clint, boom.

Clint?

I whimper and struggle against the nurse-type person. "Clint? Clint…hurt…where…?"

"Sweetie, you need to settle, you are just healing. Please, lie back down…someone got get her father!"

Someone at the back of the room darts out and returns barely a minute later with my dad in tow.

"Taylor, shhh, it's alright, calm down."

"Dad?" my voice is a meek whimper, although clearer than it had been in days.

"Right here, glowstick."

"Clint?"

He shoots a glance at the nurse person, who returns this gaze with an unsure glance to my left. My dad then gives here the look he gives insufferable bigwigs. She sighs and pulls back the curtain the left of my bed.

There, on a hospital bed, lies Clint

I stare at him for a moment just to make sure that his chest is rising and falling beneath the bandages, before relaxing back into the surprisingly comfy pillows

"Where are we?" I turn back to my dad

"Um, Asgard, I think. Thor said something about healers fixing Loki's magic. Nurse here can tell you exactly what happened."

I turn my gaze to where the Nurse is waiting patiently behind my dad, studying my chart

"Ah, yes. Hello, my name is Solskinn, I am the chief healer here on Asgard. About ten days ago, Prince Thor, along with your other companions, tumbled through a portal made by King Odin with you in his arms. He told us you required immediate medical assistance, along with the man over there, who was carried by the green beast. You had a fractured skull, a concussion, about five completely shattered ribs, a broken hip, lacerations on your knees, wrists, and ankles, and a sprained ankle.

"What about my arm and the reactor?

My dad perks back up. "Well, Loki's thugs crushed your arm like tinfoil from the elbow up, and one of the exposed inside parts cut into your stump. They stitched you back up, and I created a new arm, this one made of the same metal some of Rhodey's planes are made of. Also, if anyone but an Avenger grabs it, the outer layer will heat up until they let go. I did have to remove the old arm and put the nano bots on standby, though. I had to completely replace the rector and some wiring, but you should be fine now."

I nod, already looking forward to the new arm

"Where are the others?"

"Thor is out visiting old friends and getting a late birthday present for you ready, Natasha is out scoping out allies against Loki, I'm pretty sure Steve has buried himself in the palace library, and Bruce is getting a better understanding of magic. You should be out of here tomorrow sometime."

I smile as I nod and pause to take in my surroundings. The room is about the size of the living room back at the tower, the walls painted a soothing daisy-yellow with white trim. Instead of monitors cluttering the room, there are balls of multi-colored light floating around Clint and me, casting soft glows onto different parts of our bodies. Sunlight streams through the big windows, with a pristine view onto the glimmering streets of Asgard

I sigh contentedly as I sink back into the comfortable nest of pillows surrounding me, letting sleep lull me as Solskinn resumes her hummed tune and my dad's fingers lace through my hair

** A~A~A**

The next morning, I am woken by a healer gently shaking me, waving a tray of steaming food under my nose

I wake up and accept the tray as the healer sets a bundle down on my bedside table before exiting the room

I dig in to the warm bread and steaming porridge, reminding myself to ask Solskinn for the recipe as I wolf it down

As soon as the last spoonful of both passes my lips, the tray is gone in a poof, leaving only the faintest scent of warm bread.

Upon further inspection, the bundle on the table is revealed to be a simple green, hooded, short-sleeved tunic with brown, tight-looking leggings, and a pair of old black boots, with a black cloak if necessary.

I smile because it's nothing like the typical attire Thor has told me about, which means one of my friends has pegged my style perfectly.

I'm just finishing lacing my last boot the best I can with just one hand when there's a knock at the door.

"King Odin requests your presence in the War room, milady."

I nod.

I walk over to Clint, make sure he's still breathing and sleeping undisturbed, and brush a quick kiss onto his forehead before grabbing the cloak and stepping out into the hall where a healer is waiting.

"Lead the way."

The healer nods and motions for me to follow.

I listen to my boots against the glossy marble flooring and then the rough cobblestone streets as I take in the wonders of Thor's home planet.

I understand why he speaks so highly of it; I can honestly say I've never seen any place that compares.

Once we reach a set of gilded doors within the palace, the healer stops but motions for me to walk up to the doors, so I do.

The doors swing wide to reveal a breathtaking room, complete with gilded vaulted ceilings and shimmering white marble floors.

Seated around a table in the center of the room are Steve, Bruce, my dad, and Natasha, all dressed similarly either to me or Thor.

Thor is in full regalia, helmet included, standing tall between two thrones.

One throne, the smaller of the two, is occupied by a beautiful lady in flowing robes, a musing look upon her face. She must be Thor's mother, Queen Frigga.

The other throne, the bigger of the two, occupies an imposing man wearing a golden eye patch. He, too, is in full armor, a staff by his side. He exudes age, power, strength, and wisdom. He must be Thor's father, King Odin.

Thor motions for me to bow low with a fist over my chest, which I do to the best of my abilities without splitting anything.

"Lady Stark-dottir. It is a pleasure to see you. Our son has spoken highly of you, young one. I trust you are well?"

"Yes, your majesty, thank you for your generosity."

Odin nods before gathering everyone's attention as I sit.

"We are all gathered here today because we hope to be joined in the war against Loki Laufreyson, so that he may pay from his crimes against our planets. Lord Rogers and I agree that he must pay for his actions. Does anyone object to this notion?"

Nobody, not even Thor, says anything.

"He has allowed an attack on Asgard and directly led an army to attack Midgard. He has slain thousands, and one of Midgard's champions lay ill as we speak. Lord Stark has expressly voiced his opinion on what Loki has done to his family and home, does anyone else have anything to say?"

I clear my throat as I raise my hand. "Allfather, the one in the healer's room – Lord Barton – means something to me that no one has before. Loki is the direct cause of his suffering, and I say he must face justice of some kind for it."

A quick glance around the table show five other people with similar expressions.

Odin nods. "All in favor of a trial, with Loki muzzled, for all of Loki's crimes, say aye."

All six Avengers plus Odin give 'ayes' while Frigga peacefully abstains.

"Then it is decided. Thor will send word with the trial date. Dismissed."

I have just reached the doors when Thor's voice rings out behind me.

"Lady Iron, may I see you for a moment?"

I motion for the others to go along as I walk back to where Thor waits. He walks out through a smaller, nondescript door, motioning for me to walk with him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better, Thor, thanks. Your home, by the way, is awesome."

Thor chuckles deeply. "That it is, that it is. Now, we are headed to the armory, I trust your father told you about my gift to you?"

I nod. "Thor, you didn't have to, really…"

Thor just looks at me strangely and laughs. "Of course I did. Now come on!"

He pushes open a heavy steel door to reveal a room full of staffs, staves, swords, and knives of all kinds, sizes, and materials.

Thor leads me to another door in the back, this one smaller and less heavily guarded. It swings open to reveal a smaller room, this one containing more familiar weapons, such as my dad's suit, my suit, guns, knives, bow and quiver, Tasha's gun belt and Widow Bites, Steve's shield, and Clint's bow and quiver, which make me wince slightly.

Thor drags out a box from the corner, opening it and pulling out a knife gun belt and a knife holster.

I give a low whistle.

Every holster is done to match my bow, black with pearl webbing. The main waist/chest holster has a black buckle and is slim, so I can hide it under a jacket or shirt. All the ankle holsters are made of padded elastic, made to fit comfortably against my skin.

"Wow, Thor…"

"You like them?"

"Yes!" I turn and give him a huge bear hug, feeling his laughter rumble in his chest.

"Good. A fearsome warrior such as yourself should be armed with only the best.. Arm yourself and we shall go to find lunch!"

I nod and strap a knife to my chest, near the right shoulder and shrug on the cloak to cover it. I slide one of my slimmer knives into my left boot and holster a gun on my left hip. I also strap on my bow and quiver, more for peace of mind then actual security.

I follow Thor back out, listening to him tell me about a replenishing spell that was put on our quivers so we'll never run out of arrows.

Thanks to shortcuts, we soon reach what I conclude to be the ceremonial dining hall. Thor glances at me before barging in, leaving me to follow.

People are laughing and drinking and generally having good time.

I paste on a smile and dive in.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

After lunch – which consisted of enough food to last me the rest of the day and me keeping my dad away from the mead – I took to wandering the halls, planning to check in on Clint before finding the library.

Pounding footsteps behind me make me spin around into an attack position and grab the knife under my cloak.

I relax once I realize the footsteps belong to a panting messenger, not an attacker.

"Milady…Lord Barton…awake…and fighting…screaming-"

I'm sprinting down the hallway before the messenger finishes his sentence.

I arrive in the healing room I left that morning, and once I tell people who I am, the crowd parts and I immediately start trying to calm Clint, whose arms and legs are flailing as he screams about Loki and blue and my name.

"Clint! Clint, sweetie, it's me, it's okay, I'm not dead." I reassure him as I run my fingers through his hair.

He stills for a moment. "Taylor? He didn't kill you?"

"Nope." I grin. "You don't get rid of me that easily."

Clint's grin lights up the room as I wave the crowd away. I lace my left hand through his left as Solskinn approaches. She grins at me before introducing herself to Clint and giving him the spiel on where we were and how we got there.

When she starts to go into his injuries, I sift uncomfortably in my seat, but Clint squeezes my hand and sends me a pleading glance, so I just lean back in my chair as I find out he's got a concussion, two ribs broken and another three bruised, and a broken ankle.

All in all, he fared pretty well.

He also wasn't Loki's plaything for four days, but…

Solskinn assures me I can stay, so I station myself next to Clint's bedside and use words to keep him company.

I talk about my arm, my reactor, Odin, Frigga, the palace, the War room, What Asgard looks like, Thor's gift, lunch, my adventures in keeping my dad at least five feet away from all Asgardian mead, what the library looks like, the spell put on our quivers – Clint beams at that – and the plans for when we leave tomorrow.

I keep his hand in mine the entire time, sporadically brushing a kiss against his cheek, forehead, or lips.

Eventually both our eyelids are drooping, so I give him one last kiss before standing, stretching, and drawing the curtain closed before settling into my own bed.

**A~A~A**

When morning comes, I've got a full night's sleep, a belly full of broth and bread, and the recipe for said broth and bread.

I slip on the black tunic and brown pants they gave me, as well as the boots from yesterday.

I'm hopping awkwardly around the room, struggling with my boot (what? You try putting on your right shoe with only your left hand) when Clint draws back the curtain between our beds.

He's dressed in a blue, tight-fitting tunic with a hood, a pair of navy leggings, and what I can assume are hunting boots.

I finally slip on the boot as Clint finishes lacing up his, and we both throw our cloaks over our shoulders and escort ourselves to the armory.

Clint claps with glee when he sees that his weapons are unaffected and in perfect condition. I laugh as I stash a knife beneath my cloak and another in my boot, securing my smallest pistol in the behind my back, in the waist of my pants.

Seeing as my dad brought my suit and I'm flying that home – with one arm and help from Jarvis – I lock up my bow and quiver inside my case.

Clint joins me with his vest – black with purple sides and an Avengers 'A' where the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo once sat -, boots, and cloak on.

As we head out to the meeting point, I stay silent as I watch him take in Asgard in all its grandeur. His boots pad silently – in true assassin fashion – against the marble floors as he cranes his neck to see the golden rafters. He's a little disappointed by the lack of vents, but, hey, golden rafters!

Once we emerge into the sunlight, we cut through the crowd of people to where our team is waiting.

Steve is smiling at the people – and Clint and I once he sees us – and waving to the crowds like the good little national icon he is.

Bruce looks really uncomfortable in the middle of the crowd, so I send a reassuring grin and a calming gesture his way, which he looks grateful for.

Natasha rushes up to give Clint and I hugs once she sees us up and moving about. She looks like she was born in the spotlight and made for this crowd, although with her line of work, you have to fit in or you're dead.

Thor is shaking hands and laughing and _did he just kiss a baby? _I can hear the sobs at his imminent departure from where I stand, about five feet away.

My dad – is nowhere to be found.

He had better not have gotten his hands on a) mead, or b) tools because Asgard was doomed by either choice, and I'd rather not spend the rest of my life as an intergalactic fugitive.

I give a weary sigh and I'm about to go hunt him down when I see him franticly running towards me.

"I'm – _huff_ – here! You guys – _puff _– can't leave yet! Loki – _pant_ – evil prick he is – escaped Asgard. He's headed for Earth but not attacking yet, but he does know where the Tower is, so we're heading for a house of mine in the-middle-of-nowhere, U.S.A."

"Um, where is that one again? Can't remember it by name."

My dad rolls his eyes at me as he hands Thor a piece of paper. "Tell your gatekeeper person that _this _is where we need to go."

Thor nods and runs off as the rest of the team does final weapons and belongings checks.

_Knife? Check._

_Other knife? Check._

_Tiny gun? Check._

_Bow case? Check._

_Boyfriend? Check._

Clint catches me looking at him as he secures his bow and raises an eyebrow.

"You got everything you came with?"

Clint does a quick self-pat down before glancing back at me and nodding.

I turn back to the sleek black suitcase that is Beta II as press my foot to the top to unlatch it.

I automatically relax as metal encases me for the first time in weeks. The right arm of the suit is a little heavy without an actual arm to support it, but seeing as Jarvis will be controlling that arm anyways, I'll be okay.

My eyes widen as Thor returns and a bright light shines ahead of us, expanding to show the shining night sky of rural Earth.

I press a final button on my neck and feel my helmet fold around my head as Steve jumps through the portal shield-first followed by Natasha, Clint, and Bruce, with my dad and I making sure all Avengers make it through.

The cheers of the Asgardian crowd fade as I run towards the portal, and all falls silent as I jump.

And then I'm falling.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, is actually a pretty nice place.

Once I got over the landing (hey Heimdall! Thanks for the 2,000 foot drop!) where I had to scramble to catch myself and Natasha and watch as my dad did the same with Clint and Thor caught Steve (but there's a shield shaped dent in the roof now), I was content here.

The house itself has got to be one of – if not _the _– smallest house my dad owns. It looks like something you'd find in the middle of Suburbia, not surrounded by acres upon acres of woodland.

The inside looks like a family just moved out. The colors are a soothing mixture of green and brown, with big comfy couches covered in Afghan blankets. There's a small workshop, just big enough to finalize my arm, one kitchen, and somehow seven normal-sized bedrooms. There are no ranges of any sort, but my dad says we're allowed to poke holes in trees whenever we want. Immediately upon arrival, Clint disappeared and returned about two hours later to inform me that the house _does_ – in fact – have rafters and vents, though they are a bit older and not as state-of-the-art as the ones back in New York.

The lack of an armory means all weapons must be stored in the owner's bedroom – not that anyone was going to do anything differently. All our stuff from the tower somehow got put into the right bedrooms, including my bike which rests in the garage.

I'd be okay if it weren't for that nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I'm not here for vacation, but because we're stuck in a cat-and-mouse game with a maniac god.

**A~A~A**

"Dad?" I call out into the mini-lab as the doors swish open and I duck just in time to avoid a flaming bit of _something_ that flies past my head.

"In here!" a voice calls from a corner.

I walk hesitantly over to see what diabolical machine he's building now.

However, as soon as I get within a foot of his back, he pops up and covers the machine with a black sheet, rolling his chair over to another table where an arm-sized box awaits.

My dad opens the box and waves me over, revealing an arm a little bit bigger than my last one, and with a little bit more silver tinting, but otherwise, exactly the same.

My dad instructs me to lay on my stomach on a nearby empty lab table. I can hear him rustling behind me, probably for some light, before I hear his chair wheels come closer.

He rolls up my sleeve and wipes the stub of my right shoulder down with cold antiseptic wipes. He checks to make sure the long, white, scar – one of many dotting my body – on my shoulder is healed before bunching my shirt material in a clamp between my shoulder blades to keep it out of the way.

After he brings up the arm to my stub and presses them together, he attaches a vacuum tube to the meeting point to suck out any problematic air bubbles before clicking a few things and twisting a few more before I carry the familiar deadweight that is a metal arm.

His chair rolls away before coming back with a laptop and a cord with an electrolyte patch on the end.

"Hold still. This will reawaken the nano bots in your brain. It might feel a little warm, but shouldn't burn like last time."

I nod as my dad attaches the patch to the base of my head.

"Hold still…almost…" a few keys click on the laptop, which emits a few beeps and squeals, "there!"

My dad is right – it gets warm, but not the agonizing, tear-jerking burn it was the first time I got an arm attached, three years ago.

My right arm gets a bad case of pins and needles as my dad detaches the wire and sets the laptop aside.

I go through the usual trials – wiggle this, catch this, twitch that – as my dad explains how he's uploaded all the files ever made for either of my arms into Jarvis so if it were to go haywire and he wasn't there, I might be able to fix it. He's also installed a microscopic microphone where, if I use the correct authorization code, the arm will detach to keep it out of the wrong hands.

I thank my dad with a hug before leaving my dad to his one-man workshop and wander the halls to think.

Except I wince because I can't disappear too far into my head without Loki sniffing at the edges of my conscious. And when that happens, suddenly all I can see is red and it hurts, hurts, _hurts._

I shake my head with a sigh as I glance at the scars on my knees, as well as the fading pink lines on my wrists, ankles, and elbows.

At least I won't be the first Avenger to have PTSD. I can guarantee that my dad, at least, thrashes in his sleep, mumbling incoherently about Loki and water and caves and Yinsen.

I'm so immersed in my thoughts that I almost bump into my boyfriend.

Who is hanging from the vent opening like a bat.

Clint pulls himself back in the vents and I accept the offered hand, pulling myself up with him.

The vents themselves aren't much of anything special, but hey, how much variation do you expect among building vents? Clint situates himself with his back up against one wall and the toes of his boots pressed against the other, with his knees pulled close to his chest.

He must have noticed my melancholy face, because a look of concern sweeps across his face. "Hey glowstick, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, not wanting to trouble him with my dark thoughts.

He just cocks an eyebrow, using one of my best expressions against me as he lifts an arm, creating the perfect space for me to curl up against him.

I sigh as I scoot closer to him and curl into him, laying my head on his chest as his arm drapes my shoulders. "I…just…I was…PTSD, Clint. I was in there for _four days_. And Loki, with the stick…" I shudder, causing Clint's arm to squeeze my shoulder as his other hand puts a finger at my lips.

"Taylor, shhh. Please don't go there, for your sanity and my stomach. I don't think the others would much enjoy the scent of vomit wafting through the vents. And you aren't the only one with a past, you know that?"

I nod against the soft fabric of Clint's t-shirt as his empty hand holds both of mine.

"I don't like eyes any lighter shade of blue than Steve's, I hate the circus, Natasha hates doctors, as does Bruce, Bruce also hate the army, Steve avoids ice and most planes like the plague, Thor hates snakes and flinches at any mention of his youth. Your dad doesn't have any bathtubs in any of his houses and he doesn't deal with anyone speaking primarily Arabic. See? Not the only one."

I breathe a silent huff of relief, even though I already knew most of what Clint just said,

"I'll probably be terrified of water like my dad, won't be able to be within a foot of a person and be lower that their waist for more than five seconds, I'll most likely freak at sticks longer than about two feet, and hired muscle isn't getting on my good side anytime soon. Just so you know."

Clint nods and rests his cheek on the top of my head. "Now, why don't you go to dreamland for a while? I'll be right here in case you start having any nightmares."

I nod again and yawn, letting my eyelids close as I feel Clint press a kiss into my hair.

**A/N**

**StarksDaughter – there's your cuddling scene.**

**I might write a one or two shot later more about the PTSD issues of the team.**

**Please keep reviewing and reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**

**Rant mode: engaged.**

**Guys, I think I need to explain something to you. **

**Two people can cuddle and have it ONLY be cuddling, nothing more, even if they are dating. I'm sorry, but I'm not making Taylor pregnant or anything. What you saw last chapter was just a cute little cuddle scene for comfort because Clint's sweet like that. No bedrooms were involved and all clothes stayed on.**

**Rant mode: disengaged. Sorry about that.**

Chapter 14

"On your right!"

_Boom!_

"Great! Now fifty points if you can shoot that-"

_Boom! Boom!_

"Yeah…that."

I laugh as my dad pouts on my holoscreen. We were in the forest surrounding the house, and we were testing my reflexes and aerial combat skills with Beta II. My dad and I were communicating via comm, and he was awarding points based on the difficulty of the target I was assigned.

"_Dive and snag that one on your three o'clock."_

I dive and flip into a tight spiral curve, arching my back to fire at a branch that was in my blind spot.

"_Good! Now, there's a clearing coming up ringed by trees, try and do a supersonic circle and cut a laser trail, then rise so I can get a visual on you."_

I nod to let my dad know I heard him as I enter the clearing. I adjust a few controls and start in a circle around the clearing, feeling my suit pick up speed until I'm a black and purple blur leaving a sonic boom behind. I fire up a wrist laser and let it slice through the base of the ring of trees. All the trees are down or falling within three seconds, and I dart upwards just before the last one smashes down.

"_Dad, you got a visual?"_

"_Confirmed. On your five o'clock."_

I spin to see a red glint waving about five hundred yards away. I fly towards him – at a normal speed, as we head back towards the main house.

"We should trademark that, you know." my dad says as our suits are being disassembled and collapsed.

"What?"

"That supersonic thing. Like 'Hulk smash', but…'Beta blast'…or something."

I roll my eyes as I lift my suit. "That is the cheesiest name I have heard. And I'm dating Clint. You can stamp a trademark on it if you want, though."

"Stamp a trademark on what?" Bruce asks from the couch. The team has somehow converged in the living room while we were gone.

"This awesome move Taylor just did! Jarvis, pull up her video feed, outside point of view."

I roll my eyes again as the T.V. flickers to life. "Well, you all can bask in my glory if you want, but I've got a god to help hunt down." I duck to avoid the popcorn kernel thrown at my ear.

I reach my room, deposit my suit, and grab a Stark tablet off my nightstand before returning to the living room.

I'm greeted by the sight of five superheroes gaping at the T.V. while the sixth has a smug grim on his face. I just shake my head and smirk as I settle onto the back of the couch that Clint and Natasha are sharing. Time to get back to work.

**A~A~A**

Two hours later sees the Beta Blast belong to me, t-shirts and mugs ordered because of this, four new Loki hideouts investigated, and all turn up empty.

I sigh as I power down the tablet and head down to the tiny lab, intent on finding a way for me to wear my bow and suit simultaneously.

I pull up the diagrams of Beta I and my bow side by side. I can't expand the back of the suit at all, it would ruin the aerodynamics completely, but I can't wear my bow anywhere else.

Unless…

"Jarvis, can you get Clint down here with his bow please?"

"At once, Ms. Stark."

I nod as I lean back into my chair and pull up a new hologram and start forming my idea.

"You called, my lady?"

"Actually, I didn't, Jarvis did, but let me see your bow."

I gently take his bow as I explain my idea. Clint's bow can collapse down to about a foot long and be clipped on a belt. Given the machines and brain at my disposal, I'll bet I can make it smaller.

"-and see this gap here? Where the lower back curves us a bit?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's just enough space for my bow, if it collapses the way I want it to. Now, how does this work?"

Clint takes his bow back and shows me the arm motion used to create the force to unfold it. I nod attentively as I study the way the joints and hinges move, the gears already spinning in my head.

As soon as he is dome, I turn back to where my bow lays on a table and pick up a screwdriver.

"Stay if you want. If you don't, I don't care."

Clint nods and settles himself up in a vent to watch my brain at work.

I just turn on the radio and let my mind fly.

**A~A~A**

"Eureka!"

I jump up and do a double fist pump as I take in my masterpiece.

The center of my bow now folds in half, the limbs folding in half as well before tucking themselves around the grip. Once the bow is fully unfolded, little metal plates about an inch square secure themselves over the various hinges to make sure that my bow will not cave on my in the field. The string coils nicely on top of the bow itself. I added a button and a few springs to unfold it, because I don't want to have to make the exact same gesture each time I need my bow. I also added trigger buttons for the explosive, gas, and beacon arrows, not unlike what Clint has on his bow.

The bow, completely folded, is now a slightly circular piece about five inches in diameter. I clip it to the back of my belt, calling the suit and subconsciously holding my breath.

I laugh with glee as I realize the suit has folded around me with no complications whatsoever.

I let the suit disperse as I unclip and unfold my bow, sending the diagrams to my dad, asking Jarvis to relay news of my discovery to him. I turn and start to clean up the tiny lab.

"Ms. Stark, Sir congratulates you on your discovery, but says you and Mr. Barton may want to arm yourselves because an alert has just gone off in Utah regarding Mr. Laufreyson's whereabouts. Ms. Romanoff is prepping the Avenger's jet in the yard."

I nod and sigh, folding and clipping my bow back on as I join Clint in the vents.

Once outside, I let my suit encompass me as Steve and my dad go over the details of the lead.

Eventually, we all board our trademark jet.

Beehive state, your hive is about be very busy, _very _soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**

**Sorry for the short chapter you guys, I did the best I could. By the way this book has more reviews than the prequel with almost half the chapters. Thank you **_**so **_**much!**

Chapter 15

"_Are you _sure_ this is where he was? Because all I am seeing right now are mountains, mountains, more mountains, and a very big lake that is covered in enough salt to douse four Thor-sized popcorn buckets."_

"_First off, what else did you expect from __Salt__Lake__ City? Secondly, yes I am too sure, because Jarvis did the tests and nobody calls him a liar." _my dad replies in a not-quite-focused yet sassy tone, telling me he's probably scanning our serene, Loki-free landscape for any sign of the God, all the while focused enough to be sarcastically diva enough to defend the A.I.

I huff and roll my eyes, shooting higher to get a better visual on the blue and red specks that are Cap and Thor.

"_Is anyone getting anything, anything at all? I am bored and I had better things to do at home."_

"_Beta, quit whining, we-"_

"_We might have something! Does someone have a visual on us?" _Cap's excited shout interrupting Natasha's berating tone makes me perk up and zoom in on the blue speck.

"_Captain, this is Beta. I have a visual, what do you see?"_

"_A green orb of some sort, hovering over a black char circle…"_

I wince at the telltale sign of Loki. _"Alright Cap, go on."_

"_It has glowing green tendrils pulsing with light…guys, you had better come and see this."_

"_Aye, aye, Captain!"_

The comms crackle silent as I dive towards the mountain face where Cap and his companion, Thor, are settled.

My boots touch down as I see Hawkeye tuck and roll from who-knows-where, Widow by his side. I can feel the heat from my dad's thrusters and the wind displacement behind me as he too lands.

"Cap, what do ya have?" I ask as I become within talking distance of our leader.

"See for yourself. The tendrils see to be leading….um…" Cap spins, eyes following the glowing lines. "That way, I think."

The corners of my lips twitch downwards as I flip up my face plate to get better look at the orb looking thing.

The ball itself is an odd mixture between emerald and mint green, emitting a soft jade light over the nearby rock face. The ball is hovering about three feet above a black circle of burnt mountain about three feet in diameter. The tendrils are a dark emerald green at the base, where they meet with the circle, but they lighten to a soft mint color as they snake their way through the mountains, heading mainly northeast.

"Guys, Jarvis doesn't even know what this is. If Jarvis has no clue-"

"-then this is bad, and can only mean one thing, really." I cut my dad's slightly panicked tone off. I take a deep breath as I push back the shadowy memories associated with this particular topic. "But we need to focus right now and do what we do best, save the world." I finished with another glance at my dad, who seems slightly calmer but no less tense.

The Captain nods and sighs as he looks at the orb. "Right, game plan, okay…Beta, you speed ahead and follow the lines. Do not engage, should you happen to see Loki, but radio back instead. Iron Man, Thor, follow her at a slightly slower pace, try and fan out for any more signs of…this." Cap waves his had vaguely at the orb. "Hawkeye, Widow, get back to the jet as soon as possible, I will follow you. We need to tell Banner to stay in the jet until further notice and be ready to be wheels up in a moment's notice."

Everyone nods as Thor, my dad, and I prepare for takeoff. Clint, Natasha and Steve start to scramble back down the mountain towards where the jet awaits. I nod and smile at the glance Clint gives me over his shoulder, giving him a thumbs up as I flip my face plate back down and power up my boosters.

I lift off with my dad speaking on the holoscreen. _"Right, just track them and get a feel for their speed _before _you blast off into the wild blue yonder. Thor and I will trail you, I am on your left while he's on your right. Got it?"_

"_Got it."_

"_Good. Stay safe."_

"_You too." _

The comms die down as I start steadily after the tendrils. I speed up and then slow down again, adjusting my speed until my speedometer says I'm clocking about ninety five and keeping up with the tendrils.

I swerve, roll, and backpedal to avoid boulder, birds, and trees. I squeeze myself through some pretty tight spaces, darting through at the speed of sound and then thankful to still be in one piece. I can barely hear the roar of thrusters some ways behind me, telling me that my dad has managed to stay on my trail, yet is quite a bit behind me.

I dive to avoid an arch before shooting up the side of a cliff. What I see makes me freeze and my eyes widen.

Around a thousand – Jarvis says so – booted, beefy soldiers stand at attention before me, each with a snarling, drooling, semi-sized mechanical wolf beside them. Their bright blue eyes stare attentively at something I can't quite see on the horizon, but I have a guess as to what – or who – it is.

"_Guys, we have a bit of a problem."_

"_What do you mean? The last time you said that, you were stuck inside Big Ben. Oh, please do not be stuck inside another national monument where you have to throw your suit at something…"_

"_What? No, dad, no monuments, my suit is still on."_

"_Then what is it, sparrow?" _Clint cuts in, equal parts concerned and impatient.

"_Avengers, you might want to assemble, because I kind of sort of might have found…um…"_

"_Found _what_, for Pete's sake Beta?!"_

"_I found an army…Loki's army."_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Hey, Loki!" I jump off my rocky hiding spot and approach Loki in a casual stroll. "What bring you to this part of Utah?"

Loki turns and fixes me with a glare and bares his teeth in a very feral manner. "Ah, Daughter of Iron, I thought I broke you."

I chuckle as I ignore my teammates screaming at me in my ear. "No, sorry, still whole enough to see another sunrise. You did cost my dad a pretty penny for an arm, though."

Loki growls. "You and your father both underestimate me. Are you going to offer me alcohol next?"

I snort. "Yeah, sorry, the suit is many things, but a cooler is not one of them."

Loki narrows his eyes. "How is your back healing?"

I cock my head, putting on a contemplative face. "I don't know, Loki, how should it be feeling after being scarred by a maniac whose end plan didn't even _work_?"

Loki laughs, and he sounds even more insane than before. "Oh, but it _did_, my dear, it did. How is your precious hawk faring?"

"Still alive and stronger than before. Just like last time you messed with him. You should really stop doing that, by the way, he's got some very protective, dangerous friends now."

"_Friends_? That's all you are? You know, when I kill him, I think I'll do his lips first. You will never kiss him again!"

I turn away from Loki and pretend to put on a sob show.

"_Guys, where are you? Loki is freaking certifiably insane!"_

"_Well maybe you wouldn't be listening to his monologue is you had waited for back up! What happened to _that_ plan?" _

"_Sorry, dad, I'll just lounge back and let him build an army next time, my mistake."_

"_That is not what I am saying,-"_

"_Will both of you be quiet for just one moment?" _Steve sighs.

After we fall begrudgingly silent, he continues. _"Beta, your dad is right, you probably should have waited, but I understand why you did what you did. Now, you can either keep him talking, we are about ten minutes away, or you can lead him back to us. Your choice."_

On that happy note, the comms fall silent. I hear a pebble click behind me and I remember the psycho I just had my back to for over five minutes.

I pretend to sniffle and scrub my palms over my eyes as I turn back to Loki.

"You're right, I _am _more than his friend. But that is only more reason for you to stay away. I will protect my team, no matter the cost, and you have no _idea_ how much I am capable of."

Loki's eyes become slits as I square my shoulders and discreetly prep my repulsors. "And neither do you, my dear."

He lowers his scepter towards me, but I immediately dart off with his army hot on my tail.

"_Talking was no longer an option. I'm leading his army back your way, can anyone intercept me?"_

"_Roger that, Beta. We are all on the ground in plain sight, use all evasive techniques necessary. Understood?"_

"_Got it, Cap. I'm coming in hot."_

I cross the peak of a ridge to see my team spread out in a circle, weapons at the ready.

I dive sharply down the ridge and head for Thor, rolling left just before I hit him so the wolf bot snapping at my smoke trails gets its head caved in courtesy of Mjolnir.

The rest of the bots looked stunned for a split second before resuming their chase, this time with me spinning in wide ovals so Hawkeye and Widow can have a free-for-all. After about twenty beasts are taken out, I flip over so I'm facing the bots and my dad and I prime our missiles. Another thirty bots and soldiers go boom after three anti-aircraft missiles and ten minor shoulder missiles.

I roll to avoid an arrow that explodes against a soldier's chest and then wipe the blood off my faceplate with a grimace.

"_Wow, thanks Hawk, every girl feels special when you splatter them with blood."_

"_My pleasure, Beta, how does your kill rate look?"_

"_Maybe fifty or so. You?"_

"_Aww, like, thirty five –no, six…no fair…"_ I chuckle at the pout evident in his voice.

"_Is the feared Hawkeye pouting? I'll get ice cream later. Seriously, though, on your left!"_

I zoom in on my holoscreen to watch him turn, taze a wolf, and give me a nod and a thumbs up before being forced to abandon his perch and jump into the mass of chaos as it crumbles under the weight of a robot.

I frown slightly but doom back into the fray, kicking and punching and blasting for all I was worth. I think I even head butted a few soldiers.

I catch a glimpse of a golden horn and kick off the wolf using my leg as a chew toy before following it.

I start spinning and rolling again – albeit more clumsily than before, thanks to the dents in my suit – but just as catch up to the glinting gold thing, all the chaos around me disappears.

I can still see the battle, but it sounds like it's underwater as I turn to face the owner of the horned helmet.

"What now Loki?"

"Just checking up on your progress my dear. Your team is grasping at straws, you know. Thor's mighty hammer is tiring herself out,"

Loki waves an arm to where Thor is playing whack-a-wolf with a barely sparking hammer.

"the beast is being overrun,"

Hulk has about five wolves climbing up his back and another two clamped to his arms.

"the Captain is showing his humanity for once,"

Steve is swinging wildly at beasts with his right arm while blood seeps from his left.

"the Widow is trapped,"

Natasha is slowly backing up with a cliff to her left, a wall to her right, and wolves in front and behind.

"your father's iron is rusting,"

I look in horror as my dad's knees wobble against a three part attack.

"and the Hawk is nowhere to be seen. Why don't you just kneel, like before?"

I open my faceplate to glare at Loki and actually spit on his shoes. "How about _no_? The first person kneeling here will be you, you puny, selfish, b-"

"Ah, ah, ah, no need to get nasty, that is really unbecoming, my dear. Just putting a simple…suggestion…on the board." Loki holds his hands up in a façade of surrender.

I snort and rolls my eyes. "Right, Loki, I wasn't born yesterday. That counts as a suggestion the day Hawkeye says he hates arrows."

Loki just pauses and rocks back on his heels. "You know, you're right. That wasn't a suggestion."

He waves an arm as whatever was muffling the battle disappears as the roars, screams, and shots assault my ears.

I'm so busy wondering what the _heck_ just happened that I fail to notice the gargantuan wolf clamping onto my leg until I hear metal plates screeching, and by then I just have enough time to secure my face plate as I fly out over the lake in hopes of dropping and drowning the thing.

Instead, the leg it is chewing on gets yanked apart, causing one thruster to go offline, and a blue blast hits the other one and then I'm free falling.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The salt topping Great Salt Lake crumbles under me and my suit – over 300 pounds combined – as the water rushes over my head, poking at my suit for cracks to seep into.

I'm sinking, because hello, suit, and everything is dark and where is Jarvis?! I pant heavily, trying to see through the dark water as I hit the gritty lake bottom, the darkness only slightly pierced by my reactor and nothing else. Almost everything else was offline.

_Why didn't we make this waterproof again?_

I try and move my legs, arms, something, and I curse softly when I realize that my suit, which was over one hundred fifty pounds already, plus the water resistance (which I would normally calculate if I weren't at the bottom of a lake) was making my suit feel like I had an elephant sitting on my arms, legs, and chest.

I don't notice that the water has found a chink in my literal armor before my ankles are doused. My breaths get shorter and fewer between as the water slowly climbs my legs.

_Oh my god, oh my god, please don't let me drown, I don't want to die, please, please, please…_

Just as I feel water on the back of my thighs, something activates in my suit and my comm pops and fizzes loudly.

"_-lor? Ta-….et…ou….you…uit! Not…safe…"_

"_Dad? Dad, I can't hear you!"_

"_Get…free…suit! Heavy…water!_

Did he just say what I think he just said? Does my dad really want me to abandon my suit…again?

I mentally slap myself and force myself to take deeper breaths and focus my genius.

Step 1: get out of the suit. Okay, breathe, Taylor. Find the release…

There! I slide a fingernail into a tiny groove under my arm, then under the other arm, the on the inside of both knees.

The lights in certain parts of the suit dim as my gauntlets and arm pieces split in half and expand as they draw away from my arms, followed by my leg pieces doing the same.

Then my torso plates and helmet pull away, and the water floods forward to cover my nose and mouth, fill my ears, saturate my clothes, and blanket my reactor.

Suddenly my mind is slammed with the smell of blood, and cold, and pain.

_Loki…no…blood…NO!...scream…pain….hurts! Hurts, hurts! Make it stop, stop, stop stop stop! _

_Dad…dad! Make him stop, please, please make it stop…Loki…stick…dad!_

_No…hurts…please…_

The smell of salty water burns my nostrils and washes the bloody shadows away as I realize that there are no sticks, no gods, and the only blood is either dried or from that wolf biting my leg.

And I am underwater, suit less, and I need to go up. _Now_.

I take stock of my surroundings, ignoring the fact that my eyes are completely unprotected against bacteria and such.

The water is cold. And dark. And also water, which I cannot breathe without ultimately drowning myself, so I need to find the right direction _right now_.

I tip my head back to face what I assume to be the surface. The water I am looking at now seems to be a little brighter, like a light is shining through it.

I start to kick my way up, wincing at my bitten leg, but then I pause. Every movie character ever knows never to go towards the light. Like, ever.

But then I remember: it was sunny outside. I mean, in the middle of Utah, here…

I mentally sigh and decide to go ahead, If it is the sun, then I get saved and onto dry land. Otherwise…

…let's not think about otherwise.

I kick my way up, ignoring the wails from my bitten leg, and just focus on _breathe_ and _move_.

I eventually get close to the light, close enough that I can almost touch it.

I reach out a hand…almost…

Then the light explodes.

Because all of a sudden, it is _really_ bright, and I'm not wet, and strong arms are hauling me away from the water.

The arms eventually set me down on to the burning desert sand, but I never notice because at least it is dry.

I slam my eyes shut against the light and immediately curl around my reactor, and all the while my body is trying to expel the water it ingested.

"Taylor, Taylor, shh, you're okay, I swear. You are not _there_, you are here, with your team. Come on, open your eyes."

I crack open one eye a fraction of an inch and find a tear-blurred figure staring back at me. Broad shoulders mean that the figure is male. Blonde hair means _not_ Loki. The figure is not speaking like they just jumped out of a Shakespeare play, so not Thor, either.

Steve. I instantly relax and uncurl, still keeping one hand on top of the reactor as a knee-jerk reaction. I blink up at him and open my mouth to speak, but whatever I was going to say was cut off by my stomach sending up a wave of nausea.

Steve helps me onto my hands and knees as I bring up bile and lake water, keeping one reassuring hand on my back.

Eventually I sit back onto my haunches and pause to look around.

There are more dead wolves and soldiers than when I took my dive, but my team is nowhere to be found, probably off fighting with more bad guys somewhere else.

I glance at Steve to see him staring back at me with a cautious concern. He looks _exhausted_. His cowl is ripped and hanging limp around his neck, his usually bright uniform is torn and blood splattered, and his shield is scratched to the point of paint deterioration.

"Thanks, Steve." My voice is soft and slightly shaky.

Steve grins and stands, offering me a hand. "No problem, Beta."

I nod and take the offered hand, my knees wobbling like a new born foal's. Steve steadies me with a hand on my elbow, letting me regain my footing.

I steady my equilibrium as I do a mental health check.

My entire body is sore, of course, my left arm, shoulder, and right leg especially, but I do not seem to be in mortal peril.

A weapons check turns up my bow secured to my back, knives on my hip, ankle, and tucked inside my collar, and guns on my hip, thigh, and next to my bow.

I groan as I realize I never got around to compacting my quiver to fit inside my suit. So that rules my bow out, unless I want to use it as a club.

I turn back to Steve, ready to charge back in to the fray, but his wide eyes and finger pointing behind me make me turn slowly.

And then groan again.

Because Loki is looking like a kid on Christmas.

And my team are wrapped like presents.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

No, literally.

Natasha, Thor, my dad, and somehow Steve were wrappedin _duct tape_ from shoulder to ankle, curled into balls behind Loki. Hulk was a big green mountain, probably struck with a tranquilizer dart or magic of some sort, and Clint was still nowhere to be seen.

I gulp as I turn towards Loki, putting on a defiant face – what my dad calls my 'rebel' face – and raising an eyebrow.

"Are you kneeling yet, little sparrow?" The pet name reserved for use by my boyfriend and _only _my boyfriend spilling from Loki's greasy lips sends shivers down my spine and my hand tightens on the closest gun.

"Release them, Loki."

"Aw, you are absolutely no fun! I want to hear you scream when I scar _their_ backs, just like yours!"

"My god, Loki, your mind is messed up, capital M. Release them _now_ or I hurt you." I slowly slip my gun out of the holster on my hip.

Loki sees this and raises an eyebrow, flicking his hand and causing my guns and knives to go flying across the desert and into the lake.

I watch the numerous splashes and gulp again.

"Oh _will_ you, now?"

I clench my teeth and ground out "Release my team. _Now_."

"Why should I?"

"What have they done to you?"

Loki just pauses and blinks at me. "You may want to get comfortable, my dear, this may take a while."

I just shift my weight, cross my arms, and raise my eyebrow.

"Thor, oh the _mighty_ Thor," his voice drips with contempt and sarcasm, "Golden boy of Asgard, the prince that could do no wrong. Do you know where _I _was during all the celebrations? Every single battle? Right behind him. I was _right there._ I helped him. And I was reduced to gossipers calling me a hypocritical, greasy little shadow."

"That's not his fault." I argue.

"Shut up! Next in line, the great Captain America. So good. So naïve. So innocently oblivious. You know, for a _fearless _Captain, you are pathetic. You are too busy being stuck in a world that disappeared seven decades ago that your team thinks you a joke. A gorilla wrapped in a flag. And you have the _nerve _to question real power?"

"If anyone is the gorilla here, it would be you."

"Shut UP! Ah, the spider." he strolls in front of Natasha and strokes her hair. She cranes her neck to try and bite him, but the absence of her arms – and therefore all balance – causes her to face plant and get a mouthful of sand.

"So much red. Her parents? Dead because of her. Red Room? Dead because of her. Countless souls, only doing what they did best, have been mercilessly slaughtered in their sleep by her. Too much of a coward, I think, to see the light fade from their eyes. Her ledger is positively _soaked_ in red. Dripping red. Can you really scrub it all off?"

"You have no right to judge, Mr. Must slaughter all things Midgardian."

Loki just growls as he turns towards the sleeping Hulk. "The beast holding a mask of a man. It is sad, really, how badly he fails. He is a time bomb, and he will explode no matter how or where he runs. He does not trust any of you, not one. He hides the truth because the truth is a gruesome sight."

"Seriously, shut up, Frost Giant."

Loki sends me a murderous glare and grabs my dad's hair, yanking his head back. "Man of Iron. Or should I say Merchant of Death? Millions have died by your hands. _Millions_. Is that why everybody leaves you? Your mother, your father, your butler. All of your friends. All your girlfriends. _Her mother._" my dad winces as I choke on my breath.

"You don't know anything about my mother!"

"And neither do you! She was a drunken trophy! Nothing more than a careless decision! Nobody wanted what came out of it!"

My throat burns as my eyes water. "Shut up, Loki! Shut up, shut up! You know nothing about me, my team, my past, or my family!"

"But I do. Your mother _despised _you. Your father was frustrated. You have no friends, and your team thinks you a burden. _Mistake._ And you will KNEEL!"

Loki slams his staff into the ground and I am forced to the ground. Loki approaches me with a regal gate, looking like he has just won the lottery.

"Finally you kneel. You will make beautiful corpse, if I do say so myself. Behold, the Avengers, Midgard's champions, kneeling before me!"

I pant as I push myself up on to one knee. "Not…so…fast…Loki. Not…dead…yet."

Loki pauses to look at me strangely. "Why do you bother to fight, little sparrow? Consent to my rule!"

I glare at him as my mind scavenges for something to use as a weapon.

Loki took all my knives and guns and I have a bow but not a quiver. I glance down at my hands, wondering if I could surprise him with a punch. Then a small smirk crosses my face as I realize he left my gloves on.

I look back up at Loki with a new spark in my eyes.

"It was non-consensual from the start."

Faster than these words can sink in, I raise my wrists, firing one net into his feet, immobilizing him, and the other at his head. I yank that one down, hard and fast, and watch as Loki Laufreyson – Trickster, Silver tongue, God of Mischief and Lies – falls onto the desert sand, his head bouncing with a resounding _crack _and then lying still. His malicious jade eyes seek mine as they cloud over, and sapphire meets emerald with a nod.

His spear drops from his limp, cooling hand and rolls towards my feet. I give it a half lidded glance.

"Loki…is down. Good, right?"

And then everything goes black.

**A/N**

**Please don't hurt me. I know this chapter was mainly monologue and bashing characters.**

**P.S.: Yami the Outcast: I'm really sorry about Loki. Keep in mind that almost all fanfics are separate, and that you perfect match is still alive.**

**Please read and review!**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A few day later, I left the hospital with my left arm in a sling, and my right calf bandaged to protect the now-scarring bite.

"Are you _sure _you don't need a wheelchair?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, dad, I am sure. Not mortally wounded."

He frowns. "Alright, if you are 100% sure…"

I sigh as he opens the car door for me and helps me in before climbing in the driver's side and starting the car.

The ride home is silent, save for the quiet rock blasting through the radio, giving me time to contemplate on my hospital stay.

When I first came to, I learned that my left shoulder was dislocated and required a sling for the next week and a half and my right leg would have some new scarring from the wolf bite that caused me to go underwater.

One of the first things I learned upon gaining consciousness was that Loki Laufreyson was pronounced dead by Bruce as soon as he de-Hulked.

Thor was hit by the news, and he stayed silent and almost brooding. When he came to visit me, he would often trail off and stare at a wall, his mind somewhere far, far away. When questioned, he put on a straight face and said that it was all for the best, that his brother was too far gone to help.

Steve, Bruce, Natasha, and my dad all just took the news blatantly, not elated that he was dead but not all that disappointed either. Nobody blamed them.

I wish I was that indifferent.

I had killed someone with my own two hands. When someone was struck by a missile or repulsor beam, it felt different. Like, _these are bad guys, and it's not like I cared, and it's technically the missiles fault. _

With Loki, I struck him down with only my hands. I saw the light fade from his bottle green eyes. I was less than a foot away as his life flashed before his eyes. And I _knew _that I was directly responsible.

Don't get me wrong, I don't regret ridding the world of his evil.

But he was human – er, god – and my teammate's brother. And I killed him.

I sigh and rub my prosthetic over my face, savoring the feel of the cool metal.

As if that wasn't enough, Clint hadn't been seen since he disappeared during the battle, and I was out of my mind with worry. What if he died? What if he was hurt? What if Loki took him over? What if-

"Taylor, we're here."

I blink at my dad as he opens the car door, my mind lazily absorbing the information that I was looking at the Avengers Tower.

I haul myself out of the car and nod at the doorman as he holds the door.

I take two steps into the lobby and freeze.

My boyfriend was pacing by the elevator, alive and seemingly unharmed.

It takes about two seconds for him to see me before we're running at each other, just like in the movies, and I'm swept off my feet and spun around.

Once I come to a standstill, I promptly smack Clint in the arm with my non-injured hand. Apparently hard too, because he actually winces and goes to rub his arm.

"Um, ow? Taylor-"

"Don't you 'Taylor' me, Clinton Francis Barton! What in the nine realms possessed you to disappear in the middle of a battle, no word to anyone, and not show up for days? _Days, _Clint. No visits in the hospital, no 'hey! I'm alive!' texts, no calls…" I take a deep breath and try and swallow over the lump that has quickly formed in my throat. "Do you know how worried I was? I didn't know if you were injured, I didn't know where you were. I thought you were dead Clint, and I don't want you dead, Clint…I…I…" at this point I'm gasping and whimpering, barely coherent as tear spill down my face.

And then I'm swept up again as Clint pulls me close, loops his arms around my waist, kisses me, and holds me while I sob my eyes out into his neck, all the while murmuring apologies into my hair.

Eventually the tears subside, and I just stand there, encircled by his arms, as Clint offers his side of the story.

"I know, shhh, I know. I'm sorry, baby, _god_ I'm sorry. Everything moved so fast on the field, and a part of my brain was always on you, but by the time Loki went down I was too far away from the majority of the team and I called a separate jet for extraction, and then I was whisked to the hospital without my opinion being given. As soon as I got out I tried to call, but you didn't answer, so I came straight here. Am I forgiven?"

I nod silently against his chest. He hugs me before stepping back and lacing our fingers together. "The team is waiting upstairs, shall we grace them with our presence?"

"We shall." I loop my arm through his as I glance behind me at my dad, who I had forgotten was still there. He was watching this whole scene with a small smile that he keeps as he enters the elevator after us.

The team is, in fact, waiting excitedly in the living room as we exit the elevator.

I'm smothered by Russian assassin before I can do anything.

"Vorobey, I was so worried! Are you okay? Physically and mentally? What happened to your arm? Are-"

"Tasha!" I lay my right arm firmly on her shoulder. "Breathe. I'm okay. Bruised physically and mentally, but okay, I swear. My shoulder got dislocated during the battle, that's all."

Natasha takes a deep breath and I can see the tension melt out of her shoulders. "Okay. We got cake!"

I look over her shoulder to see Steve, Bruce, and Thor gathered around a cake. Each inch or so of the side was a different color, either blue for Steve, green for Bruce, purple for Clint, silver for Thor, gold for my dad, red for Natasha, or black for me. As I got closer to the cake I could see that the top was adorned with the words 'Avengers are Awesome!' in red.

I laugh as the rest of the team gives me hugs and shows their relief at my well-being.

The cake is eventually cut, and I take my plate, letting my dad ruffle my hair and ducking the icing Clint tries to smear on my nose.

The room is filled with booming laughter and banter, everyone talking to at least one other person, and not a melancholy thought in the room.

Loki said some very barbed things before he died.

He called me a mistake.

The only _mistake _there was him saying what he did.

Because yeah, I am a genius, but I don't know everything.

And I've realized that I don't need to.

I can take whatever life throws my way because I have the best people in the world backing me.

**A/N**

**Last chapter, guys. Sorry this book was so short, but I didn't have the whole prosthetic/reactor hospital thing to fill like I did last time.**

**This is not the last you will see of these characters. I'm planning a series of one shots.**

**Like one focused entirely on both sides of Clint + Taylor.**

**And one where Natasha, Taylor, and the rest of the girls get drunk.**

**And one dabbling in PTSD.**

**So read and review!**

**P.S: What do you think of Clint calling Taylor 'baby' and Taylor occasionally calling Clint 'sweetie'?**


	20. MAJOR AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Major Author's note! Important!**

**As of today, it has one year since I started writing my first book, **_**Iron Beta: Life as Tony Stark's Daughter**_**. One year. **

**I would like to give a huge thank-you to every person that's ever reviewed, favorited, or followed any of my stories, because there's actually quite a lot of you and you have **_**no idea **_**how much I appreciate all of you.**

**And now, a quick update. **

_**Iron Beta**_** 'verse (canon!Avengers): **_**Dissension**_**, the latest story in this verse, is coming along smoothly. I am accepting requests for one shots, please PM me if you have a request. And keep reviewing, following, etc.**

_**Saved by the Bell**_** 'verse (teacher AU Avengers): consider this verse on hiatus because my muse for that story died. Sorry for all of you that liked that story, but I am taking requests for other AUs as well. PM me or review with an AU idea.**

_**Whispers in the Dark**_** (canon!Harry Potter): this should be getting updated fairly smoothly. The only problem I have with this is that fact that I am literally getting almost no reviews. Do you guys not like this? What's your stance? PLEASE TELL ME. **

**If anyone has any questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, or the like, please PM me, review, or email me at ironsparrow99 [at symbol] gmail . com. **

**Thanks,**

**IronSparrow99.**


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